


Within Glowing Shadows: I

by kazul9



Series: Within Glowing Shadows: Duology [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Because they're dumbasses but they're dumbasses who love each other SO MUCH, Cuddling, Dancing, Depression, Don't copy to another site, Found Family, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Learning To Communicate, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rating will change, Shapeshifting, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved Victor Nikiforov, enabled by Dachi, hand-holding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 99,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25175083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/pseuds/kazul9
Summary: Yuuri is the top mage of his country, known for making the elements sing and weaving them into delicate stories and dances even if his performances are inconsistent at best. He's always reached after the shadow of his idol, for the musicality and creativity that Victor Nikiforov has brought to the art of their sport. And he finally gets his chance at Sochi to prove himself to the world and to Victor—Until he crashes and burns.He's not the sort to let defeat ruin him—if he was, he'd have given up years ago. But this is different. With his emotions overwhelming him he's lost control of his magic, of the wildness inside him, and he can't perform. He tries every option, but he's still forced to retire and go home to Hasetsu.At least that was the plan until a certain man comes crashing to his life with a shocking proposition in hand and fortunately—and unfortunately—for Yuuri, that’s just the beginning of his story.AKA what if Yuri!!! on Ice but with were-creature elements and magic competitions instead of ice skating(Updates every Wednesday, with the entire fic written in advance!)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Within Glowing Shadows: Duology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040261
Comments: 774
Kudos: 292





	1. First

Control means everything to Yuuri.

He doesn’t have much of it in his life. He manages his anxiety as best he can with treatment, but it doesn’t completely vanish no matter how hard he tries. When his mind decides to destroy him, Yuuri uses whatever he can to push it back, but he doesn’t win every battle.

But his body? His body is _his_. He’s honed it, tuned it, learned exactly how to move and what to do to control himself and the magic that runs through his veins. Yeah, his mind takes that from him sometimes, especially when he needs it most. But when he can quiet his mind, when his control is absolute, he can move with finesse and grace unlike anything else.

Except… that’s not true anymore.

Yuuri’s mind has betrayed him for years. He guesses it was inevitable that his body followed suit eventually.

Yuuri’s not sure exactly what it was that triggered the change, but he remembers everything leading up to it with excruciating detail.

Sochi.

It’s the culmination of his career. He’s finally on equal ground with his hero and he’s made it to the Grand Prix Final, he has finally shown Minako and Celestino he was worth all of the effort that they put into him, despite his flaws. He knows he isn’t as powerful as other mages in attendance, but he was expected to be on the podium with his solo routine.

He comes in last place.

His Vicchan passed away, and Yuuri hadn’t been there with him. He hadn’t been home in _five years_. And what does he have to show for it? Nothing. A few medals here and there, but that’s about it. He should have known better. He’s a dime-a-dozen mage that can only partially shift—

Well, that isn’t true anymore either, is it?

How far a mage can shift into their familiar form indicates how powerful they are, and Yuuri was the bare minimum of how far a physical mage needed to shift in mageia arts; he had a tail, some fur, claws, his ears, and if he focused his eyes would shift from plain brown to a sharp red or gold. The sole reason he had any aspirations to get this far was because his own idol can only partially shift too, but that doesn’t matter anymore.

Yuuri’s finally unlocked the full potential of his magic, he can shift completely into his familiar form.

But he can’t _control_ it.

Yuuri wakes up after the disaster at Sochi as a half-human and half-beast mishmash and hasn’t been able to change back to completely human for the long, uncomfortable plane ride back. Yuuri’s lucky that he’s pinned between Celestino and the window, he doesn’t know if anyone else would put up with his awkward shifting of mismatched body parts, trying to find a position to be comfortable to sit in. It’s more than he’s ever transformed before, and part of him dares to hope that means something good came from that whole disaster.

Then he gets back to Detroit.

He fully transforms while on the couch with Phichit, trying to tell him about everything he went through at Sochi in tears, from Vicchan to his disastrous solo performance to _Victor_ , and in the middle of saying the words, “commemorative photo” Yuuri’s clothes tear around him as he tumbles off the couch in a wad of black and gold fur, his entire world skewed as he tries to find his balance on four legs and paws instead of two legs and feet.

And Yuuri can’t change back. No matter how hard he tries, he _can’t change back_.

He wakes up the next morning somewhat arranged like a human and pushes through the day as his form shifts and he struggles through classes and training. It’s easy to see the pity in Celestino’s eyes, and Yuuri can’t hate him for it. What else is he supposed to feel for Yuuri when he’s such a mess?

It’s not like this sort of thing doesn’t happen to people. Losing control of your magic is likely to happen after a big change in your life; most kids going through puberty have problems for a while, trauma can trigger it, sometimes forming a bond with someone and mingling too much of your magics together can throw you off. And yeah, physical mages like him are more prone to this sort of trouble, their forms more powerful but less stable as opposed to their spiritual mage counterparts. But it feels so _stupid_ for Yuuri to have this problem when his struggles are so small compared to other people’s.

Still, something like this is supposed to get better over time.

It just doesn’t for Yuuri.

Nationals are quickly approaching, and when Celestino pulls him aside in the middle of practice, Yuuri already knows what he’s going to say. Yuuri can’t perform his solo performance, much less risk injuring a partner for a duet.

This… This is it.

Celestino and Phichit talk to him about how this isn’t the end, how when he recovers there’s always a space for him in Detroit, but when the days and weeks keep flying by, when Yuuri finishes up college without his condition improving, he starts to lose hope. He sees healers and doctors and they say that it looks like a normal case, that so long as he takes care of himself, he should get better.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he’s forced to retire.

He graduates in early spring and then heads home. Or “home,” more like. Yuuri hasn’t been back in five years. Things have changed drastically, from the raised platform at the train station to the shops that have closed and the people that have come and gone, leaving the town more ghostly than before. Not to mention the posters of Yuuri himself that he sees everywhere.

He used to think his partially shifted form looked ordinary at best, a little misshapen and odd at worst, but now seeing himself how he _used_ to be nearly sends him into tears. He misses it. He misses being a normal human being that could control their body and shifting, that could dance and perform magic without _needing_ to worry—even if he worried anyway.

Yuuri doesn’t understand how his family still welcomes him home with open arms. He wants to shake them and cry and scream and howl that they should turn him away, be angry with him, anything. They should be as disappointed in him as _he_ is.

But they aren’t somehow, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Yuuri can barely help out around the onsen but he tries his best—even if more than a few dishes and folded bundles of laundry are dropped because of sudden changes. He avoids guests and people in general as best as he can, trying not to be seen in his pathetic state. When he’s given up on helping out, his family can usually find him at Vicchan’s shrine, talking to him about everything that Yuuri’s been through in their long five years apart.

Mari starts calling him the ghost of the onsen.

Yuuri wishes he were a wayward ghost. How nice it would be to never be seen, to not have any responsibilities or guilt. Instead he’s entirely human, except the parts of him that aren’t.

Mari and his parents can only shift around half as much as Yuuri could at the prime of his career, before his world bottomed out beneath him. They’re sympathetic, but they’ve never truly understood the feel of your body as it sings with song and with magic, the strength and grace that Yuuri’s spent years mastering, the freedom and exhilaration of performing—

Well, there’s no use remembering it now.

Finally, Mari forces him from the house saying that she “can’t stand his useless moping anymore, and besides, you’re scaring the guests by lurking like that.”

Yuuri bundles up in his baggiest clothes and buries himself beneath his favorite hoodie so he can to try and hide his deformities. The air is still pretty chilly for late March luckily, even if it’s nothing compared to Detroit, so the layers aren’t too bad even with his fur.

It’s crazy how different Yuuri’s only two homes have been from one another. From the weather, to the culture, to the language, there are very few things that could link Hasetsu and Detroit besides Yuuri himself. Hell, Detroit is supposedly the murder capital of the U.S., whereas Yuuri’s not sure there’s been a crime worse than some kids stealing candy from the corner store in Hasetsu. It’s probably still snowing in Detroit, but buds are forming on all of the plants in Hasetsu.

Yuuri misses Detroit, but he doesn’t want to go back. There isn’t anything there for him anymore.

Not that he’s sure that there’s anything here for him in Hasetsu but…

Yuuri shakes the thoughts from his head, trying to focus on his feet walking, not paying much attention to where they lead him. It’s not like he has anywhere to go. He forced himself to get to practice in Detroit, just in case he got better… But there’s no point anymore. He’s announced his retirement. He didn’t even hold a press conference, he couldn’t stand the thought of people seeing him like _this_. To know exactly why he’s retiring and judge him for it. He knows that there are plenty of rumors already spreading online from the campus, but…

It doesn’t matter. Yuuri wasn’t someone who burned bright in the arena, anyway. He’ll fade into obscurity before the next season’s over, if they even remember him by the time that it starts. He only made it as far as the Grand Prix Final at _twenty-three_. His idol had made that in his first year in the senior division, but Yuuri had only crashed and burned when he made that transition. He’s crashed and burned every year since.

Except last year, when he focused only on his solo performance instead of attempting another half-bonded, unmatched partnership for a duet performance. Without that bogging him down, he made it so far; farther than ever before.

And then Yuuri failed anyway. Even with less on his plate than any other competitor that made it to the Final, he…

Yuuri huffs out a breath. Walking around pointlessly isn’t helping anything. Normally when he’s like this he’d dance or practice but he hasn’t been doing either since he got home. He’s been so terrible at both like this, with fur and claws and ears and his tail coming and going as they feel like it, but he just _can’t_ do this aimless wandering anymore. He needs to move with a purpose, not with his thoughts gnawing at each other.

So he heads to the Ice Castle.

Yuuri’s not sure _how_ Hasetsu got its own arena or when exactly it was built and cast. Probably when it was a bustling fishing town and there was actually a reason to come here besides the slowly dying onsens, before everyone moved away. Regardless, no matter how this all ended for him, Yuuri can’t help but be grateful that the Ice Castle was here as he grew up. Between it and Minako’s studio, Yuuri was rarely seen at home when he was out of school. Dancing and performing and accepting the magic within him had helped him conquer his anxiety as best he could, to start taking steps toward being healthier. It helped him travel to so many new places and meet so many awesome people. He’s grateful, if he really thinks about it.

But right now it just hurts rmore than anything else.

Yuuri pushes through the glass doors of the Ice Castle, hesitating a moment as a figure faces away from him behind the counter, hanging up some protective training gear.

Yuuko. She was Yuuri’s best friend growing up, his confidant who once shared all of his passion for a sport that they used to love more than anything else. Yuuri’s barely talked to her in so, so long, trying to wait until he had news that he was fulfilling their childhood dreams to meet and compete against their idol. But then months turned into years and, well, here they are.

“Hi, how may I…” Yuuko’s eyes narrow and she leans against the counter, only getting closer as Yuuri tries to hide deeper in the hood of his sweater.

He knows it’s pointless, that he has to talk to Yuuko, but when he does she’ll _know_.

“Yuuri!” Yuuko’s face spreads into a large grin as she jumps up a bit, like she’s honestly excited to see him.

“H-Hi, Yuuko.” Yuuri winces as his voice comes out a bit rough—how he’s shifted right now must be messing with his vocal cords.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” she scolds, even if her smile doesn’t fade at all. “Call me Yuu-chan!”

“Right,” Yuuri mumbles and ducks his head, freezing as his pointed, black and gold-tipped shifted ear pokes out.

“Uh… Are you shifted?”

It’s not like it’s exactly _inappropriate_ to walk around shifted in Japan, though it’s definitely not like America where the people who are able to shift are constantly showing off and flaunting like some animalistic mating dance—or maybe it just seemed that way because Yuuri was in college.

Still, it’s less common to see it in Japan, and _much_ less common for someone like Yuuri, who’s already conscious enough that he can’t fully shift—well, _couldn’t_ fully shift.

“Um.” Yuuri hesitates just a moment before he pulls his hood down, showing his one shifted ear and the patches of black fur along his face and neck. He’s pretty sure his incisors are more fangs than regular, human teeth right now, too, but thankfully they aren’t enough to get in the way of talking. “Yeah. I’m shifted. I… I can’t help it.”

“Oh, Yuuri.” And there’s that pity in her voice, the one that he’s come to dread. It’s not hard to see him in his disheveled state and guess exactly what’s going on, and Yuuri can’t stand to look and see the expression on her face. “Is this why… This is why you retired, isn’t it? Why you dropped out of Nationals?”

Yuuri bites his lip and nods, shifted ear turned back. “Yeah. It happened right after the Grand Prix Final.”

And he expects more pity, more uncertainty. More questions, or maybe an offer to help. But the silence keeps stretching and stretching until Yuuko finally asks, “Well, you’re here to practice, right?”

“I—what?” Yuuri looks back up to her, and it’s not quite pity in her eyes. No, her smile is softer, and her eyes gentler, but it’s not shock or pity.

“So long as you’ll be safe like that—I remember puberty for both of us and that was a special kind of torture—you know you’re always welcome to practice here. This is your home arena, no matter where you go.”

Yuuri blinks, trying to pretend that his eyes aren’t stinging and his face isn’t going red. “Thank you, Yuu-chan.”

Her smile grows again at the use of her nickname. “Of course! Do you need equipment? I don’t see a bag.”

Yuuri snorts, then sniffs back the half-formed tears. “No, I can’t. It isn’t safe to use much magic when I don’t know how it’ll go, and besides, it’s not like I can do much with, well.” He waves out one of his hands, fur and claws slipping from the safety of its covering.

“Can… Can I watch?” Yuuko ducks her head a little, like she’s embarrassed to ask but couldn’t resist. “You can say no, you’ve just gotten so good. You’re the girls’ favorite mage, you know.”

“I’m _what_? Um, I mean…” Yuuri _wants_ to say no. In fact, he wants to turn around and walk right back out of the Ice Castle and crawl back into his bed and sleep until he gets better. But… but he’s _tired_ of being tired. He’s tired of being helpless and hopeless with no plan of moving forward. And it’s not like this will change any of that but Yuuko’s meant so much to him for so many years, cheered Yuuri on when no one else understood his struggles, and Yuuri can’t leave the ring of mageia without at least _trying_ to show her that he tried his best for her and the rest of his family here in Hasetsu.

“Yeah.” Yuuri nods, clenching his hands into fists as if he could clutch his determination there and keep it from fleeing. “There’s actually… I’d like you to see something.”

Yuuko blinks and then bites her lip to try, and fail, to hold back a smile. “Okay, Yuuri! I’ll meet you outside of the arena.”

Yuuri gives a nod before he scuttles off to the locker room, shedding his hoodie and instead standing in his mismatched athletic clothes—they work well when he’s like this, since they’re so stretchy. He wants to stop and think, to consider all the memories he’s made here, his past with Yuuko and the future he doesn’t have, but he knows he can’t if he wants to ever step into this place again. If he thinks too much, he’ll choke; that’s how it’s always been. So he walks out and into the open air of the arena.

They have a competition-sized arena here in Hasetsu. It was enough that they used to be able to keep a coach employed, though Yuuri always trusted Minako more. Nowadays nothing much draws people to Hasetsu, least of all their empty arena.

Yuuri walks up to Yuuko and she lets him use her shoulder as he takes off his shoes, him being mindful of the claws on his hands. She doesn’t say a word as he walks up to the barrier, a dome that simmers more in his senses than his sight, a magic older than him.

He turns to face Yuuko and hand her his glasses before he can think of running. “After I had to drop out of… everything, I decided to start practicing stuff besides my routines. I can’t do any performance justice, but this is what I’ve been working on. Please watch.”

He swings around again, pushing a hand up against the barrier and asking the magic to let him inside. For a moment, he worries about being let in—it’s been years and he doesn’t know if magical contracts expire. He gave the old magic of the barrier something of his, and it gave him something back, but he didn’t read too much of the paperwork he had to sign with the Ice Castle to initiate the covenant and—

And his hand drifts through the barrier, and Yuuri lets out a shaky breath. It was a silly worry, magic never forgets. But Yuuri’s nothing if not full of silly worries.

He steps onto the hard, smooth ground of the arena and the magic buzzes around him with a force that makes his skin hum, that makes excitement trickle through his bones. Magic outside the arenas is fleeting and temporary; the most that his parents do is keep bowls of food warm and encourage the atmosphere of the onsen to stay happy and relaxed. Outside of the arena, Yuuri can barely move or control any element, only vaguely encourage it to do as he wants.

But in here? In the arena, a mage becomes a god of their own private little world. It’s power, it’s art, it’s control—

Or at least it _was_ that for Yuuri.

Now his power snaps and claws beneath his skin, biting its way out in a way that threatens to make him shift but _not yet_. Yuuri fights himself with every footstep, every breath, keeping his form _his_. Right after Sochi, he couldn’t step foot into the arena without instantly shifting all of the way into familiar form, but he’s practiced every day since then to keep that much under control.

There’s not much magic he can safely cast like this, but he has to try.

He reaches the center of the arena and lowers his head, his ears just barely catching the stifled gasp from Yuuko, so far away from him.

Of course she recognizes this starting pose.

Victor Nikiforov wasn’t only just Yuuri’s role model growing up, but Yuuko’s as well.

Yuuri moves, and he winces at the pathetic trail of fire he summons to follow the motion.

Victor is a spiritual mage, specializing in illusions and music, and Yuuri’s a physical mage who’s never truly specialized in any of his elements. Earth, water, air, and fire are all harder to grasp than they’ve ever been before. There’s no way he could properly imitate this routine of Victor’s in Yuuri’s state, he doesn’t even know why he took the time to learn it.

Well, no, that’s a lie. Because he and Victor Nikiforov share something in common: their love of dance, and their love of stories.

Most mages dance in mageia art performances, it increases the difficulty of unfolding the magic around you and earns you a higher score, but the way that Victor moves is an art in and of itself. You could cut off all magic running through Victor’s veins and his routines would still be medal-worthy, in Yuuri’s opinion.

And this routine, after everything that Yuuri’s done, _speaks_ to him. The longing and the reaching, taking hold and having to let go. He calls all the elements and tries to wrap them around himself, to touch and to grasp, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough. It almost feels like it should be a duet performance, something longing and fleeting and meaningful.

Yuuri dances this routine a little differently than Victor ever did, though.

There’s longing and there’s want, but it’s a struggle. It’s a fight. Every moment Yuuri clings to the form he has, even as it shifts, even as his familiar form spills more and more from his soul. It’s a battle that he tries to win against himself, against time, against fate.

It’s impossible to triumph, but Yuuri’s dreams have always been so out of reach for him that he doesn’t know anything other than struggling for what he wants.

He still fights for the impossibility of his idol noticing, _seeing_ him. That bland, empty smile and vaguely distracted eyes as the words, “Commemorative photo?” come out of Victor’s mouth haunts Yuuri. He wants Victor to look at him, to _know_ him. But he doesn’t blame Victor for not recognizing him. There may have been only about a dozen contestants at the Grand Prix Final for mageia arts, including Victor, but Yuuri was never very memorable.

Yuuri stretches, reaches, his body shifting with the movement and retracting his claws so that he could touch, caress, without hurting.

But there’s nothing to reach for. He can’t go back and undo whatever change happened to him, no science or magic has a hint as to how time travel would work.

His familiar form claims his arm in a wave of fur and claws as Yuuri takes his final pose, hands wrapped around his neck for just a moment before his magic snaps. It tears through him in a wave ofclaws and teeth and black and gold fur until he’s sitting there, no longer a man, but magic.

Most people say Yuuri looks most like a wolf—he’s the size of a large one, for sure—but some say that Yuuri looks more like a fox, or has some traits of a large, long-haired cat with tall ears and a flowing tail. Gold travels down his mane and then spreads across his side in streaky splotches, coating his back feet and tipping his tail.

Everyone who’s seen it says Yuuri’s familiar form is stunning, a gorgeous creature. Yuuri himself had spent most of his adult life wishing for a full familiar form, for a power greater than his own, something graceful and freeing.

And now he’d give anything to have his old, weak self back.

Yuuri lowers his head, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth for just a moment before he throws back his snout and _howls_ , lets out all of his anguish and hopes and fears in a single breath. He calls for something, anything, any _one_ to help.

But no one comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *does a jig into view*  
> What's up, folks! I SWEAR that the hard angst won't last for long, there are some folks who are reading in advance will verify this. We're going to be spanning the entirety of the canon series and the rating **WILL** eventually go up to explicit! I will change the rating a few chapters in advance, and will warn in the end notes prior, and in beginning notes of the chapter as well. There will be no MAWs, and if any possible triggering content arises that I or my alpha/beta see, it'll be tagged and noted on the chapter! This is a lot of boring stuff, I know, but this is a long project and I wanna let you guys know what you're in for. :D
> 
> And I do mean long
> 
> I started this as a side project
> 
> I thought this would be 60k, max
> 
> HAH
> 
> (It's longer than 60k)
> 
> Anyway! Shout out to [Dachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dachi) who both enabled and betaed this whole thing (she'll try to tell you she did nothing, DON'T LISTEN TO HER, WITHOUT HER THIS WOULD BE MUCH SHORTER), and to [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear), who helpfully reassured me that this ridiculously niche fic isn't garbage multiple times!
> 
> And thank you to anyone out there giving this fic a shot!!! Writing this honestly got me through the first half of 2020. It's been my place to go for comfort when I needed to escape for a while, and it's both comforting and (mostly) terrifying to finally put it out there. Consider leaving a comment and/or kudos if you enjoyed? And otherwise, if you liked it I'll see you next Wednesday!


	2. Second

Yuuri’s breath rattles in the barrel of his chest as he tries to catch it, his skin twitching and shaking under his fur as magic sparks along it. His eyes focus on the ground below him and he sees cracks in the hard floor.

Oh.

Yuuri must have wrecked it when he howled, when he let his emotions out. Most physical mages are polite enough to clean up after themselves when they’re done practicing, but Yuuri knows that trying to fix this will probably end up making it _worse_. He’ll just have to apologize to Yuuko since she’ll be the one to have to clean it up; Takeshi’s a physical mage too, but who knows where he is, and the triplets haven’t reached the age that they’ll present their magic or familiar form yet, so their magic is just vague sparks of things that don’t really indicate where they’ll end up. No matter what they are, though, they’ll be sure to be a handful.

Yuuri hasn’t seen them in person since they were _born_. He’s seen a ton of pictures, of course, witnessed all their milestones from thousands of miles away, but Yuuko said that they were _fans_. That definitely wouldn’t have happened if they’d known Yuuri in person—known him from any source besides his childhood best friends.

“ _Yuuri!_ ”

Yuuri’s head snaps up, ears twitching forward. It’s still strange being able to see clearly like this, even if he still needs glasses with his regular eyes.

Yuuko slams her hand against the barrier at the edge of the arena, Yuuri’s glasses rattling next to her. “Yuuri that was _so cool_! Why are you retiring when you can still move like _that_? You were a _perfect_ copy of Victor!”

Yuuri snorts, giving his best approximation of a wolfish smile and shaking his head as he trots toward the entrance. They both know it’s nothing like Victor’s version of this program, his take on the Stammi Vicino music infinitely different. Even if he could imitate the illusions and light and color that Victor _really_ used in his routine, Yuuri isn’t even remotely in the same class.

Yuuko grabs a robe from a closet behind her—clothes ripping, tearing, or disintegrating aren’t exactly rare occurrences in an arena—and then runs back over to the entrance to meet him there. She looks away as he walks out, holding up the cloth, but there’s still a huge grin splitting her face. “I thought you’d be depressed or something. Not… not whatever _that_ masterpiece was.”

Yuuri gives a growly snort as he walks out. Thankfully his body decides to cooperate for once and he shifts back into somewhat human—though one of his feet remains a paw, and his tail decides to hang around. No second pair of ears this time, at least.

“I was,” Yuuri admits, his voice normal now. “Or, well… I am.”

Yuuri doesn’t _want_ to retire. He always assumed that when he stepped down, it would be his choice or an injury he got from performing. Maybe a severe burn, or a wound too deep to heal right. He’d fought so many inner demons and conquered them all to get where he was, and he ended up losing to one of them anyway. There’s nothing physically wrong with him, not on the outside. And it’s _frustrating_ and it makes Yuuri wish he could just tear away his magic, some days.

“But I’m tired and I’m bored of being depressed. I don’t want to lose my love for magic, and it was nice to remember how it was when we used to copy Victor together.” Yuuri takes a shaky breath, tears pricking at his eyes as he ties the robe shut. If only things were as simple as back then; the golden memories that Yuuri can look back on with a smile, that he’s valued more and more as he drifts farther from them. “Yuu-chan, I’ve… I’ve always…”

A door slams and there’s a scurry of movement and before Yuuri can even react there are three small forms clinging to Yuuko’s legs.

“Axel, Lutz, and Loop!” Yuuko beams, turning back to Yuuri. “Haven’t they grown since you last saw them?”

“Y-Yeah.” Yuuri’s not exactly _afraid_ of them, he just… He has no idea how you’re supposed to approach children that tiny, especially when they’re all staring at him with wide, curious eyes…

And then the silence is broken.

“Wow Yuuri, you got fat!”

“Why are you all half-shifted and ugly like that?”

“Are you retiring because you’re ugly?”

“Why are you naked?”

“Are you staying in Hasetsu?”

“Why aren’t you married yet?”

“ _Hey_!” Yuuko’s voice rings across the arena, barely registering through the numbness spreading beneath Yuuri’s skin.

These girls are more brutal than the press, and the press is already Yuuri’s worst nightmare.

“Sorry, my girls are such groupies!” Yuuko laughs nervously, even as she casts a glare down at her girls.

“They’re all your biggest fans, Yuuri!”

An arm wraps around Yuuri’s shoulders and another ruffles his hair.

“N-Nishigori?” Yuuri tilts his head back, barely catching a glimpse of the man. He was Yuuri’s rival for a lot of their childhood, but once he started going out with Yuuko, he calmed a bit. They’re all physical mages, which had crushed Yuuri and Yuuko’s hopes of performing together one day. It makes Yuuri curious about the triplets and how their magic will manifest—not that genetics mean much. Yuuri’s parents are both spiritual mages, and yet Mari and Yuuri are both physical mages.

“It’s good to see you around. We missed you, you know.” Takeshi lets go of Yuuri, joining the rest of his family while Yuuri straightens himself. “You can come any time to practice. The Nishigori family’s always got your back.”

The triplets burst into some cheering and maybe some backhanded compliments, but Yuuri can’t hear it as he fights back a wave of emotions, threatening to drown in it. He’s ignored a lot of his relationships and friends while he was off focusing on training, and for what?

At least, if anything good has come of this, he has a chance to do better and to _be_ better.

Though he doesn’t know how to pull that off while he’s in such a broken state.

Exhaustion begins to creep up on Yuuri, making the world lose focus at the edges. It’s funny, he used to be known at practice for his stamina, but now going through a half-baked routine _once_ wears him down to the bone.

Yuuko finally waves off the hoard of her children and lets Yuuri escape to the locker room, where Yuuri finds that they still have a few pairs of his old clothes. He spends a minute holding the fabric between his hands, clutching it as if he clings it tight enough he might be able to escape back to the time that he left it here. When he was excited and terrified to go to America and start a new chapter of his life. All of his dreams were finally within reach and he was chasing after them—

And they all slipped through his fingers no matter how tightly he gripped with his claws and his teeth.

He leaves the rink with little fanfare, the Nishigori’s restraining their children as they invite Yuuri to visit again soon, to not be a stranger.

Honestly, Yuuri’s not sure how often he _can_ come and practice, considering how absolutely drained he is from this short session, and the fact that he doesn’t exactly have an infinite budget to replace his clothes every time he inevitably destroys them. He could just let himself transform into his familiar self when he steps into the arena, but he doesn’t even know _how_ to move and dance while he’s a full beast like that. Minako could teach him, her familiar form similar to his even if she took a slightly different, less competitive path with her career. She taught him so much of what he knows in the first place…

Eventually, maybe, he will. But right now, settling on transforming every time he enters the arena, settling on barely controlling his magic when he used to be able to wield it with finesse, is too much like giving up. He already has in a way—he’s already retired—but letting go of this one, last battle feels like a betrayal of all of that time he wasted chasing his dreams.

Besides, he needs to get himself under some sort of control before he considers coming back here. Not only because it’s safer that way, but because he’s useless to his family like this. The travel, and the coaching, and the costumes have cost the onsen so much throughout the years, and now he can’t even help support them with basic chores.

He huffs out a breath as he takes the side entrance into the onsen. If only he could figure out _why_ he’s like this, and _fix_ it. But no, it’s probably his own weakness he’s been fending off finally coming to nip at his heels.

He slides off his shoes, hesitating a moment as he leans against the wall. He should go to the kitchen and scrounge up food, but he’s _so tired_ …

“You missed Worlds.”

Yuuri freezes, eyes widening as his breathing picks up. No, he wasn’t supposed to run into anyone other than his family back here, much less—

Minako tugs on his arm, pulling him into the hall. “Come on, have a drink with me.”

“I, uh.” Yuuri glances up at her, catching the slight pink of her cheeks. Minako loves to watch mageia competitions and gets _really into it_ when she does it. She’s honestly the onset’s best customer despite having her own bar because she likes the television here better. At least that’s her reasoning. “Haven’t you had enough already?”

“I’ll have water.” Minako turns and waves for Yuuri to follow her as she saunters down the hallway and back into the main room.

For a second Yuuri considers going to bed instead of joining her. He’s just so _tired_ , and he didn’t shower at the arena, so he’s sweaty… But knowing Minako, she’ll just pull him right from his bed when he collapses in it. Or if he’s _particularly_ unlucky, she’ll pluck him right from the shower while he’s in the middle of washing his hair or something.

So with a long-suffering sigh, he follows her out.

Luckily the screen in the main room is now displaying some other sport, the couple of patrons in the room glued to the tiny figures running across it. At least it’s not the Worlds’ highlight reel, or the interviews or anything. Yuuri’s never missed one of Victor’s performances, but he doesn’t know if he could bear watching _anyone_ perform right now.

Minako’s already perched at a table watching him, so Yuuri wastes no time walking over and sitting down on the cushion across from her as she pours them both a cup of water.

Yuuri eyes the cup. If Minako’s really not drinking, that means that this is serious.

Maybe Yuuri should have tried to make an escape after all.

“Why didn’t you watch Worlds?” Minako takes a sip, eyeing him over the rim.

Yuuri takes a swig of his own, taking a second to himself as his tail flicks across the ground. “I forgot.”

In fact, he didn’t even mean to leave the house. He’d somehow missed the physical and spiritual solo performances over the past few days, but if Minako had planned on kidnapping him and dragging him into the room for duets… Is that why Mari pushed him out earlier?

Something swells in Yuuri’s chest and tears prick at his eyes. He’ll have to thank her later. Maybe Minako got to him in the end, but Mari spared him from having to watch the event itself.

Minako hums as she considers him with narrowed eyes. “You’ve never missed a Victor Nikiforov performance before in your life. Not since you knew he existed.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to argue with her—but she’s right, isn’t she? He’s _always_ found a way to watch whenever Victor performed, no matter when it was or who he was performing with that year. Victor’s strange in how he switches partners every year. He says it’s because he likes to surprise the audience with something new as often as possible, and people thought that Victor was insane when he left his partner he’d had all throughout juniors, Georgi, for duets in the senior division.

But he’s proved that he could pull it off.

Yuuri wishes that he also changed partners yearly for the same reason, but that’s not why he does it. Yuuri doesn’t work too well with others; when he tries to bond with a new partner, it’s barely skin deep. They’re never on the same page, their magics don’t intertwine… He wanted to be like his idol his entire life, but Celestino was right when he encouraged him to compete in solo competitions only, even if he would lose some sponsors and have to give up a dream. He and Phichit lasted for two years as duet partners, but Yuuri could tell when he was dragging Phichit down, so he moved on, and now…

Yuuri shakes his head. No use regretting anything he can’t change, especially not any more. His most recent interaction with Victor Nikiforov is enough to quiet his dreams of meeting and impressing the man, not to mention the fact that he can’t even _compete_ anymore. Yuuri leans against the table, glancing around the room and not meeting Minako’s eyes. “I’ll just watch it later.”

“ _What_?” Her voice rises in pitch, and Yuuri glances over to find her jaw dropped. “What happened to _needing_ to watch him live?”

Yuuri gives a half-shrug. “It’s the same routine whether I watch it live or in a few hours.” Or a few months, or years, or maybe when he’s dead. Victor’s performing Stammi Vicino, the same routine that Yuuri had just attempted for Yuuko, and he doesn’t need to compare himself to the master of spiritual magic and his amazing, masterful solo work.

“You can’t keep avoiding this.” Minako sets down her cup, folding her hands in front of herself. “Mageia will continue with or without you, and I don’t think that you want to go without it.”

Yuuri frowns, fighting down every biting response that threatens to burst out of him. She thinks that he _wants_ this? That he’s the kind of person to roll over and let life gut him? She thinks that he’d walk away from investing almost all of his life into this sport? He’s anxious, and he gets discouraged often, but he didn’t make this _choice_.

“Whoa, hey, don’t look at me like that.” Minako raises her hands, but her face stays solemn. “I know that you can’t compete, okay? I practically helped raise you, I know you’re the type to fight like hell. You’re stuck. But that doesn’t mean you have to walk away completely.”

“What?” Yuuri breathes. He knows better than to hope—if there was _any_ other option, Celestino would’ve mentioned it before suggesting retirement. He _can’t_ hope.

“You can’t compete, that would be dangerous to you even if you decided to skip out on duets for the rest of your career. But the JMF knows your value, you know. You know that I work on choreography for other mages from time to time, and there are plenty of opportunities in choreographing and coaching.”

Yuuri blinks at her, trying to push down the sour disappointment. The Japanese Mageia Federation wasn’t exactly _fond_ of Yuuri after his sudden retirement, like they believed it was something he could control. But Minako has been working with their mages for years. It’s not like Yuuri needs to keep a stable form in order to coach, though for choreography might be a little more difficult…

But Yuuri doesn’t know the first thing about coaching. And even if he did, that isn’t what he _wants_. He wants to create magic, he wants to weave stories and universes for the world to see. He wants to transport people from this world to somewhere _else_ , somewhere better.

“Don’t dismiss it right away, okay?” Minako reaches out, about to set a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder before thinking better of it and setting it down on the table—which Yuuri’s grateful for, being touched doesn’t sound pleasant right now. “I know it’s not what you want to be doing. Hell, retiring to Hasetsu to teach wasn’t what I wanted to do when I retired because I didn’t want to do it at all. I get it, kid. And at your age, I would have…”

Her eyes lose focus for a moment before she clears her throat and looks back at Yuuri. “Anyway, I get it. It sucks a _lot_. But an internship or shadowing position wouldn’t be impossible for me to pull off. And it wouldn’t be impossible for _you_ to pull off, either.”

Yuuri snorts. That’s easy enough to _say_ , but since when has Yuuri ever coached anyone? Since when has he choreographed even one of his own routines? He hardly has the qualifications to teach the basics to kids—

“Oh no you don’t.” Minako snaps her fingers in front of Yuuri’s face and breaks him out of his thoughts. “You _could_ pull it off. Unless you’re saying that all that education and training that your parents and I have been investing in you means nothing?”

“I— Of _course_ not.” Yuuri scowls at her.

“Then don’t dismiss it. The season just ended, so it’ll be a month or two before people start calling me about routines.” She stands up, not even swaying a little, even if her cheeks are a little pink still. “Come with me, just to see. It’s not a commitment besides a day out of Hasetsu, all right?”

Yuuri stares at her for a long moment, jaw tense. It feels like losing a battle to give into this on so many levels, but at the same time…

He can’t just sit here hiding forever. Going out in public would mean showing everyone exactly what happened, but at least this way he wouldn’t be a burden. Maybe he might even be sort of good at all this.

Yuuri lets out a long breath and nods. “I’ll think about it.”

Minako beams. “Good! Now, don’t make me tell you again to get your ass back over to the studio. I don’t care what half-shifted state you’re in, you’re out of shape and it’ll help you feel better. I’ll drag you there if I have to.”

Oh, she absolutely will, Yuuri has no doubt. He remembers waking up to a sudden shower of ice water after sleeping in one too many times.

“Yes, Minako-sensei.” Yuuri bows his head.

“Good.” She walks around the table and there’s a brief pressure on his head, a soft tap. “We’ll get you through this, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, [look at this amazing art of shifted Yuuri that Baph made!!!](https://twitter.com/boredBaph/status/1286053344709140481) It's just GORGEOUS and I'm still DYING!!!
> 
> Second! If you've been following me elsewhere, you might know that my mom had covid back in March and her health's been not so great since--things have been heading downhill and I have to go help her out after posting this, so quick A/N here!
> 
> But on the bright side, the summary's changed! :D I haven't updated the chapter count because I'm not entirely sure how I want to post it, but Wigs is finished being drafted!!!
> 
> Thank you so, so much for everyone reading this and giving it a chance!!! I love these dorks way too much in general, but I especially enjoyed writing them for this fic :D Also, thank you to Rae for being an awesome alpha, and Dachi for doing a fantastic job beating!!!


	3. Third

Hasetsu has never felt so big yet small all at once.

It’s not that it’s never stifled him before, when he was a teenager. He remembers the wanderlust of being young, starting to compete internationally in juniors and wanting to keep reaching, keep stretching beyond the walls of the quiet town that rose around him. But he remembers that back then, it was still home. It was still a comfort of familiarity and warmth. He knew who he was and what he was capable of.

When he wakes up after Worlds, it’s none of that. Honestly, it’s anything but.

Hasetsu is a skin that doesn’t fit right on his body, too loose in some places, so tight that it strangles in others. He wants to say he doesn’t know why it’s different, but he does.

He has a path ahead of him again, he even has _options_ —plural!—if he takes up Minako on her offer. But unless he somehow ends up working with a mage competing at an international-level—and Yuuri had been one of the only ones of his class in Japan for a while—he’s stuck here. No more dreams of making a name for himself, of meeting or knowing Victor Nikiforov. It was always a dream that was out of reach, anyway. There isn’t a world in which Yuuri’s actually good at his sport, and especially not a world where his idol notices him.

His chest aches sharply at the thought, and he rubs at it while Mari eyes him at the breakfast table. Yuuri’s parents have long since gotten used to the extreme swings in Yuuri’s mood, thankfully learning that pushing him just makes it worse. But Mari’s less likely to let his moods go without poking at them. Inevitably, when breakfast is over, she corners him in the hallway.

“You okay, little bro?” Mari ruffles his hair as if this is a casual meeting of siblings, but Yuuri knows better.

“I don’t need to be coddled, you know. I’m just… I’m working through it.” Yuuri glances at the wall, wrapping an arm around himself. “But thanks for helping out with Minako, yesterday.”

She snorts and pulls at his shifted ear until he hisses and pulls away—the damned things came out again last night. “You can’t have it both ways. Either I’m overbearing, or I’m not.”

“I know, I just…” Yuuri sighs. “You’ve all already done too much for me.” And now there’s no way he can ever pay it back.

“We did it because we wanted to, not because we wanted you to feel guilty.” She sighs, and Yuuri doesn’t blame her. He’s had conversations like this most of his life, but it doesn’t stop the way he feels—it doesn’t erase how useless he is, now. “Besides, you said you weren’t ready to be around that stuff yet, and I’m not sure Minako was ready to hear that.”

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat, and he’s not sure whether it’s because of the guilt swelling in his stomach, or the warmth of Mari’s kindness. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll pay me back someday. Besides, you don’t need any more tough love when you give yourself enough of it.” She reaches into the pocket of her uniform, well worn and patched by deft hands too many times—it could use replacing. They won’t be able to, though. “I’m heading out for a smoke, you wanna come sit with me?”

Yuuri hesitates, but then shakes his head. “Thanks, but I’m good. Maybe later?”

“You gonna hole up in your room again?” Only Mari can manage to make that statement so bland that it’s both an accusation and not all at once.

Yuuri shakes his head again. “No. Minako offered to let me dance, and after being in the arena yesterday…”

“Huh.” She quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe I should’ve let Minako drag you around.”

Yuuri snorts. “If we let her have her way all the time, she’d run Hasetsu.”

“Not like she doesn’t already.” Mari places her hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, giving a slight squeeze. “Just remember we don’t have any expectations of you. Only do this if you want to, all right?”

Yuuri frowns, but nods even as his head screams that he should argue, should yell, should refuse her words. Shouldn’t they have expectations? After all the empty promises and false hopes he gave them? He remembers talking about his dreams of reviving Hasetsu, of getting as famous as Victor Nikiforov and saving everyone. He remembers talking about winning, about being the best, he remembers his family _believing_ him.

And then he came home like this.

Mari scowls as she reads Yuuri’s thoughts flitting across his face, but whatever she picks up, she decides not to argue about it. “All right, have fun. Tell Minako I said hi.”

“Sure, I’ll try to help out with chores when I get back.”

Mari turns, shrugging as she walks away. “Not like there’s too much that needs to get done around here anyway.”

Yuuri winces, but she’s right.

He heads out of the onsen, and it’s almost ironic how perfect it is in Hasetsu for Yuuri, and yet how that’s killing it slowly. The streets are so quiet that even this far away, he can hear the rough waves of the ocean crashing on the shore. The wind is just biting enough to remind him that spring isn’t quite here yet. The only voices he hears are the gulls crying above him, circling the empty town like vultures, waiting for the last life in this town to extinguish.

He wonders if that’s even possible. Would this town ever be completely empty? If the onsen shuts down— _when_ , really—will they still live in Hasetsu? Will they move to another city? He doesn’t even know what his parents would do, what they _could_ do. They probably spent all of their retirement funds keeping the onsen afloat, while Yuuri…

No, he’ll do something to help them get there. He won’t be useless. Somehow.

He finally passes a few people as he makes his way deeper into town center, some of them waving, some of them too caught up in their own thoughts to notice Yuuri. He doesn’t miss how their eyes linger when they notice him, though. He should really be used to it after the gawking on his trips to the arena in Detroit, but somehow the few eyes here are worse than the crowded anonymity there. It almost makes him prefer the impersonal hundreds of eyes on him when he was performing.

At least he’ll only be a spectacle for so long before they get used to him. Before he stops being Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s ex-ace, and that Katsuki kid that used to be really into mageia.

Minako doesn’t even blink when she sees Yuuri at her door. She barely even says hello before she falls into her stretches, knowing that Yuuri can and will follow her lead.

And he does. It’s nice, to be competent in this, to trust his muscle memory even if his limbs aren’t as agreeable as they would be if they were completely human. But he remembers having to adjust to his odd body with puberty, refusing to let himself get out of shape whereas Yuuko’s eyes turned elsewhere, to schooling and Takeshi.

It hurt, but Yuuri hadn’t hated her for it then, and he doesn’t now. He was confused for a while because his small little crush had been shattered, but how could he be angry or bitter when she smiled so much with Takeshi and Yuuri felt his soul sing whenever he let magic run through him?

That’s the thing he hates most about all this. It’s like he’s lost a limb, or his voice, or _something_. It isn’t essential to living, no, but it’s been essential to _Yuuri’s_ life.

“All right kid, let’s get you out of your thoughts.”

Yuuri blinks up at Minako, giving a gentle affirmation more out of habit than actually processing her words. When his mind catches up with him, he asks, “What? How?”

“You get so caught up in your head sometimes that you forget that you can do the basics, the bare bones that you came here to learn while you were a leech on poor Mari’s hip.” Minako holds out her hands and Yuuri takes them, rising to his feet as she lifts him in a movement far too graceful for his part-animal body. “Dance, Yuuri. Your spirit can’t sing on its own, but your body can express it while it’s trapped inside.”

Yuuri’s lips quirk up. “I didn’t know you were so poetic, Minako.”

“I’m _not_ poetic, I’ll have you know that I’m _dramatic_ and I’m very practiced in that art and will not have it mistaken. Now,” Minako grabs her phone, finger hovering for just a moment before she taps the screen, “show me what they taught you in Detroit.”

Yuuri just stares for a moment, but then the music catches up with him and he remembers this song. He remembers working on routines with Minako for years, for so many different songs, and he _moves_.

Minako is an world-renowned performer, but she was never a part of competitive mageia. Her control of her body and her magic is legendary, she’s won multiple awards for her performances on stages, in theaters, among troupes of the best of the best. She’s always said that mageia lacks the finesse of performing with the restriction of program requirements and scoring consideration, but Yuuri _thrives_ on the challenge and he’s pretty sure that she likes to watch him try to weave the magic of art into the brutality of competition.

All in all, there are few people on this planet as accomplished as Minako Okukawa, and Yuuri doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve her in his life.

Unsurprisingly, she’s not impressed with his skill right now. Not after months of hobbling through Victor Nikiforov’s routine and trying and failing to conquer his own routines. He’s been so hung up on his magic spinning out of his control that he’s barely been to a dance studio for more than the bare minimum of basics.

It feels… good. To just move.

Most theaters and performance venues will have a set-up like an arena, if not as powerful—performers need to sign a contract to be able to walk in and have their powers amplified, to weave that into the story they paint with their bodies and souls. But Minako refused to have the studio enchanted. She says that the performance starts from within, that you need to hone the blade of your body and then use the momentum of your performance to strike.

Yuuri’s body won’t be honed, it refuses to be with a tail that throws off his balance and limbs that aren’t quite even. But his muscles burn and his mind focuses in on the single point of Minako’s words, the precise and fluid movements of his body.

He aches when he wakes up the next day.

But he keeps coming back.

Minako is brutal, she holds nothing back and even though it stings, Yuuri _craves_ it. He wants to hear the truth, he wants to be able to work on himself and move forward.

Even if it’s a little disheartening when he sees Minako’s teen students and how they move infinitely more gracefully than he ever could like this.

Maybe he’s making it up, but his form seems to stabilize a little more as he continues to practice, even if it won’t go back to normal. He’s still a mess of a person, but he doesn’t shift as dramatically or as often, and his clothes are very thankful for this. He even manages to step inside the Ice Castle’s arena for a while without needing to completely transform into his familiar form.

It’s not great, it’s not what he’d always dreamed of, but… it’s good. When he visits Vicchan’s shrine, he manages to smile at the picture of himself when he was small, holding the small poodle that was his best friend and most trusted confidant for years. Yuuri’s familiar form vaguely resembles a pack animal, and Yuuri really could and _should_ have predicted his loyalty and dedication to the little pup.

Yuuri wouldn’t have traded a single second that he’d had with Vicchan for anything else in the world. Even if losing him is probably somehow part of the reason that Yuuri’s stuck like this, he’d do it again and again for Vicchan.

And now… well, Yuuri has to do what he can with the lot he’s been given.

“I’ll do it,” Yuuri finally murmurs as he stretches in Minako’s studio, preparing for a rough session with some of his leg shifted, the tufts of hair looking ridiculous under his tights.

“Do what?” Minako presses on his back, helping him bend in half and press against the floor.

He doesn’t blame her for not knowing what he’s talking about, she hasn’t brought it up herself since she first mentioned it. Honestly, with how slow Yuuri is to make up his mind about things he isn’t absolutely sure about, she probably wasn’t expecting any sort of answer until the last minute.

And maybe it seems quick to her, but this thought? He’s been tossing and turning every night trying to figure it out. It was less about whether he should do this or not, because he knows the answer to that. He _needs_ to do this. He has no other choice.

Even if it means giving up.

Even if it means settling.

“I’ll come with you when you go to choreograph.” Yuuri moves into the next stretch, and Minako’s hands leave him. He tries not to think too much about what’s going through her head—but of course he does. Maybe he’s taken too long to think about it. Maybe she’s started to regret making the offer in the first place. Maybe she was thinking about _actually_ retiring like she threatens to every year. Maybe—

“You sure?” Minako’s voice is confused, but soft. “You haven’t even let me nag you about it.”

A smile quirks at Yuuri’s lips. “Yeah. I…” He clears his throat. “I don’t want to stop being a part of mageia yet, but I’m not getting better.”

“You’re getting more stable.”

Yuuri sits up, turning to look at Minako. “Not stable enough to compete or perform.”

Her lips press into a thin line, but after a moment, she nods. “All right. I’ll let you know when it is.”

Yuuri nods in return, but hesitates to go back to stretching. “You don’t seem happy about it.”

She gives a dramatic sigh. “It’s less about you, and more about how your phone screen keeps lighting up every few seconds, distracting me. Did you get a virus or something?”

Yuuri swivels around until he can see his phone and, sure enough, it lights up. He frowns and rises to his feet, walking toward it. “It shouldn’t… I’ve barely used it to do anything but talk to Phichit.”

She scoffs. “Don’t tell me that kid wouldn’t send you anything fishy. He spends way too much time online.”

“Don’t even.” Yuuri shoots her a look. “You love how much he’s online so you can get your pics from the Detroit arena. I know how closely you follow the competitions.”

“And whose fault is it that I got dragged into all that?” Minako raises an eyebrow.

Yuuri could point out that _she_ was the one who brought him to the arena in the first place, that otherwise he would have become a performer, but he knows when to pick his battles.

“Besides, all Phichit does is send a constant stream of hamster memes. I honestly didn’t even know there were that many hamster memes out there,” Yuuri mutters as he glances at his phone.

And he has _so many_ notifications. More than he can put together.

He unlocks it quickly, swiping away all of the alerts from social media and news sites until he sees the dozens of missed calls and even more texts. And it’s like everyone in mageia suddenly remembered he existed, message upon message building up until Yuuri gives up on even trying to go through those and thumbs down to the first text that had come in, and it’s from…

Takeshi?

**Takeshi** :

I’m so so sorry

I would have stopped them if I knew

Well, that isn’t awful and ominous or anything.

Screw phone anxiety, Yuuri hits the call button.

“Hello?” Takeshi picks up on the first ring, which makes Yuuri’s gut drop even further. The man has a wife, three kids, and a full-time job, he barely pays attention to his phone.

“What happened? Why is my phone blowing up?” Yuuri’s voice rises in pitch as the words come out.

“You haven’t seen it yet,” Takeshi breathes, and Yuuri can barely make out Yuuko yelling something in the background and that doesn’t exactly help to calm him down.

“ _What haven’t I seen_?” Yuuri hisses.

“The triplets, they…” Takeshi swallows loud enough that Yuuri can hear it. “You remember when you came to the arena and performed Stammi Vicino?”

Well, he _tried_ to perform it, at least. “Yeah?”

“They… they recorded the performance and uploaded it. No one noticed it at first, but then, uh.”

Yuuri freezes, his entire body running cold as Minako’s studio fades away from around him. His breathing picks up, rattling in his chest as his hands shake. He— If his phone is getting bombarded that means— Yuuri is—

“I-I’m sorry, Yuuri.” Takeshi fumbles out, and Yuuko’s voice rises in the background of the call. “They uploaded the video, and it went viral.”

The phone slips from Yuuri’s hand. He should be worried about it cracking or shattering, but he’s not. He wants it _gone_. He wants to wipe out the whole internet, but he knows that’s not possible. Now that it’s out, and it’s been uploaded for who knows how long, there have probably been copies made. Probably paired up with ridiculous, hilarious songs to show off how bad Yuuri’s broken, angry performance was. Probably gifs highlighting every jerking move and fizzling magic. They should get Yuuri’s opinion on those things, honestly, no one’s better than absolutely destroying Yuuri than himself.

“Yuuri?” A hand falls on Yuuri’s shoulder and the touch rattles through him, electric and _wrong_.

He howls as it shocks fur from his skin and fangs from his mouth, tail snapping out from the end of his spine as his clothes tear and he _breaks_. He’d been so, so good. He hadn’t fully shifted in ages, he—he was supposed to be getting _better_ , not thrown back to step one. Minako’s saying things to him, but it’s just grating ringing in the sensitivity of his familiar ears. He snarls without thinking about it.

Minako jumps back.

Yuuri whines, barely biting back another howl as his eyes sting with tears that he can’t hold back. He’s a mess, a disaster, a broken creature that can’t do _anything_ right.

He stumbles toward the door, and Minako leaps over to open it before he can collapse against it. He nearly sobs at the kindness, but instead focuses on the movement of his paws, moving them faster and faster until he’s out on the streets and running, running, _running_.

It’s almost easy to pretend that, like this, he could outrun everything. Run until he’s left Hasetsu and Japan and the world behind, to never have to think about society or mageia again. He’s heard of people letting their familiar form take over before, going feral and living off of the land.

But he knows his family would worry. He knows he doesn’t have the skills to survive—he may have the teeth and the claws for it, but he hasn’t even killed so much as a mouse before. Mari always took care of them when they found one.

He still lets himself pretend, though, as he makes his way from the town and onto the beach, pushing and pushing and _pushing_ until his legs give out and he collapses into the sand muzzle-first. He pretends, as he lies there, that none of this has happened. That he didn’t just make himself into an ass in front of the _whole entire world_. Screw being able to do _anything_ with other mages after this.

All of the walls that Yuuri’s built up over the years to try and hide what a fuck-up he is have been torn down in a single, terrible decision to try and re-connect with his childhood best friend. Not only will people see how little control he has, but they’ll see how out of shape he’s let himself get, how little talent he has with his body now that his magic is out of control.

Yuuri’s always been a failure, and he made peace with that a long time ago.

What he can’t make peace with now is that the whole world knows that too, and he can’t do anything about it.

This is it.

It’s all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or is it? We all know what comes after this~
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading!!! <3 I'm still having a rough go of it, but what else is new :'D And shout-out to Rae and Dachi for being AMAZING!!!


	4. Fourth

Yuuri lays on the beach, the only sign that time is passing being the sun slowly arcing toward the horizon, sparkling along the waves of the ocean as the sky fades to hues of orange and pink. It’s beautiful

Yuuri hates it.

He wants it to be raining, or hailing, or sleeting. He wants the weather to be as uncomfortable and miserable as he is. But it’s a nice day, maybe a little chilly though his fur keeps that at bay. It’s a good familiar form, a powerful one. Something Yuuri could see himself fantasizing about having as a kid. It’s useless to him now, though. Not only because his magic can’t be controlled now that he has it, but because he _can’t change back_.

He should probably head back home. His family must be worried about him. He’ll shift back into his human body eventually without any clothes to cover him, and the idea of streaking through Hasetsu naked doesn’t exactly appeal to him.

But the thought doesn’t seem to register with his limbs, too heavy to move beyond shifting in the sand.

He wishes he were anyone else but who he is. He wishes he could go back in time and convince himself to never perform that routine in front of Yuuko, to never try and pursue his dreams on the international stage, to never follow this winding path into mageia at all. He wishes that he wasn’t such a waste of space and talent.

But… all of those things are written in stone at this point. There’s no going back to change who he is or what he’s done. He just has to go and… and face the fact that this video is out there.

He whines and tries burying his face in the sand before too many granules get up his nostrils and he sneezes.

There go his dreams of being a part of competitive mageia in any way, shape, or form. He’s become a viral laughingstock. Kids in elementary school probably saw him and laughed. “This is Japan’s ace?” They’d say as they snorted at their phones. “I’m better than this.”

And they’d be right, of course they would. Even if Yuuri had been in shape, hadn’t been broken and grieving far too many things at once, that performance of Stammi Vicino wasn’t about skill or talent. It wouldn’t have gotten high marks in any competition. It was about reaching out to all that he loved and trying to grasp it again, no matter how hard and difficult it was. It was to show Yuuko that he hadn’t forgotten the past. It was to show Yuuri that parts of him were still _his_ , were still within his control.

What a lie.

The sun dips below the horizon, black and purple shadows curling around Yuuri, camouflaging his dark coat. His stomach growls and his eyes are heavy and, finally, he finds the strength to raise himself up on shaky legs. With a deep breath he shakes the sand from his fur, sending his head spinning and his legs almost giving out—but he catches himself.

Just existing shouldn’t be this _difficult_ , honestly.

He trudges back up the beach, retracing his steps until he’s back in town again. There are a few people out and about, but he keeps his head low and luckily they don’t say anything or stop him. Yuuri almost wishes that they would, that someone would notice the sharp ache in his chest and offer some sort of help.

But Yuuri’s felt like this before, and he knows that he’s the only one who can fix himself.

Yuuri slows as he approaches the onsen, a noise building in his throat that’s half-way between a whine and a growl. How can he get inside without _thumbs_? Normally his full shifts are shorter than this, but at this rate they’ll have to install a doggy door for him. He tries to give a derisive laugh as he steps onto the property and heads toward the back entrance, but it comes out as an odd, coughing sort of noise.

“There you are.” Mari stands up straight from where she was leaning against the house, the floodlights illuminating her and the smoke from her cigarette in an ethereal glow. “I was starting to get worried.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to speak, to reassure her that he’s fine, but he can’t form words like this. So he huffs and comes closer so she can see for herself that he’s in one piece.

She eyes him for a long minute while she takes another drag and slowly lets it out, letting him squirm. He can’t decide if she’s doing this to punish him, for her to give him a good look over, or biding her time to come up with something to say.

Before he can come to a conclusion, she heads over to the door and opens it, swinging her arm in a gesture that clearly says to get inside. “You hungry?”

Yuuri hesitates for just a second because yeah he _is_ hungry, but he’s also not sure he wants to put in the effort of eating—but if he has to eat, how is he going to eat it? Even if he doesn’t have to eat off the floor, and he _hopes_ Mari would give him that much dignity, he can’t pick up chopsticks. He would have to eat it like a dog, making a mess of himself, and the table, and—

Yuuri’s appetite shrivels and dies at the thought.

He shakes his head. A full shift never lasts long, he’ll eat when he’s recovered tomorrow.

Mari frowns, opening her mouth to probably push the issue—but she hesitates when Yuuri flinches. She gives a sigh, putting out her cigarette. “Fine. Come in, then.”

She walks into the house herself, waiting for Yuuri to trot along after her before shutting the door and heading right on inside. She doesn’t glance back to make sure he’s following, and Yuuri almost makes the choice to not follow her, not have to face his own home while like this… but he’s worried them enough, hasn’t he?

They make their way through the family quarters, and Mari pauses with him at the bottom of the stairs, brow furrowed as something must run through her mind.

Yuuri does the only thing that he can do: he waits.

But in the end, she only shrugs and gives a wry smile. “Well then, I’ve gotta go help clean. Good night, little bro.”

And she leaves him to climb the stairs to his room alone. At least he’s a large animal, bigger than any dog that he’s seen. If he was tiny as a rabbit and had trouble with stairs… Well, he doesn’t have to worry about that.

He climbs as quietly as he can, slinking into his room and jumping on his bed, praying that it won’t smell like animal musk in the morning. It never has before with him half-shifted, but if he wakes up and smells dog and thinks that Vicchan is there—

He buries his head into his pillow, breathing as deeply and calmly as he can.

Which isn’t very much at all.

He just wants to be _normal_. He just wants _control_.

But right now, all he can do is squeeze his eyes shut and keep breathing until eventually, thankfully, he escapes reality for a short while and slips into sleep.

His dreams are full of restlessness, of aching and fur and feathers and teeth, running and chasing and, sometimes, even dancing. But when a soft knocking wakes him in the morning, all he has are the ghost of sensations lingering just beneath his skin.

Yuuri rolls toward the noise, squinting his eyes open as his ears twitch toward the door. He seems to be at least somewhat human, his limbs long even if the tips of his fingers feel rough like the pads of his paws, and his tail shifts against the sheets. He’ll have to be careful to be as calm as possible today, the magic beneath his skin snaps and crackles like it’s just _waiting_ to strike.

Mari’s leaning against the door, form familiar even without Yuuri’s glasses. “I have your phone and your glasses from Minako.”

“Don’t want them.” Yuuri’s voice comes out rough even for the morning, his voice half-shifted

He thought he left this behind at puberty. But then again, he thought he’d made _some_ progress with his training with Minako. He’d thought going into an arena again was a good idea. He thought he could fade peacefully into obscurity.

How naive.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Yuuri can nearly see her rolling her eyes. “At least come down for breakfast.”

The thought of having to eat dinner off the _floor_ last night makes his stomach turn. “No.”

She crosses her arms. “You’ll make mom sad.”

“ _No_.” She’ll be sad _anyway_ when Yuuri can barely pick up his fork, can barely join in on the conversation.

“He won’t make me sad.”

Mari jumps a little bit and Yuuri sits up straight in bed, clutching his sheets to him—it’s his mom, and he grew up in an onsen where nudity isn’t so big of a thing, but it’s still not _appropriate_ to just go around not wearing clothes.

“Thank you for waking him up, Mari.” Their mom walks into his tiny room and it suddenly feels crowded, too small, like there’s not enough air in here to feed all their lungs. “But I can take it from here.”

Mari mutters something, setting Yuuri’s things on his desk before leaving the room as fast as she can, and Yuuri can’t blame her with how envious he is of her escape.

“Good morning, Mom,” Yuuri mutters, turning his eyes toward his sheets.

“Good morning, Yuuri.” And she sounds like she has a smile to her voice, even though Yuuri can’t understand _how_ she can be smiling when he looks as disastrous as he does. “Can I sit?”

He nods, not raising his eyes as she sits next to his feet, giving him space while staying close.

“How are you feeling?”

Yuuri almost laughs. There aren’t words for chaotic, dark pit gnawing at his insides. It’s not as bad as it was right after Sochi, but it’s not as good as it was yesterday morning. Still, he answers as honestly as he can, knowing his mom would see through any lie. “I’ll be okay.”

She hums, and he winces. “I know you’ve avoided the subject, but will you let me help?”

Yuuri looks up at her, blinking for a moment as his mind tries to make sense of the words, and then he blanches.

She’s talking about their _bond_.

They haven’t used their bond in ages besides his parents sending him the occasional brush of warmth and love throughout college—until he got the news about Vicchan, and then this whole situation, so he’s shut them out. After all, bonds are the same as the contracts that Yuuri has with arenas, except _more_.

For one, it has to be consensual on both sides, each side has to earnestly want to be connected to the other, to exchange some of each other’s magic. The sort of exception to that rule is how infants form a slow but steady bond with their caretakers through their first three months of life, but it can be broken at any time and most teenagers will break theirs. Yuuri hasn’t had a lot of bonds outside of what he had to for mageia, and even then those were never deep no matter how hard he tried to make them work.

His bond with his parents is deeper but still shallow, meaning that they can only send each other vague hints of thoughts and feelings sometimes. He and Mari have a bond from when they were little, too, and Phichit’s bond with Yuuri is probably about as deep as hers. But letting them in means letting his magic loose _into_ them, it might mean setting off their own magic and destabilizing it like his own. His magic would travel like electricity through the conduit of their bond and it could destroy them.

And Yuuri _refuses_ to see anyone he cares about like that. He’s had his mental shields up for so long, he’s not even sure he knows how to let them down. He doesn’t _want_ to let them down. And it’s not like he has to, anymore. He was terrible at duet performances, even when he was competing. No one would want to bond with him ever again to try and compete with him, it’s not worth the chance if he destabilizes and ruins their entire career.

“No,” he whispers, voice even deeper with horror as he feels his fangs and claws shift into being.

“It was just a suggestion.” She places a slow, careful hand on his leg. “You know that sometimes opening yourself to a bond can help stabilize these things. It helped when you went through this as a teen.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t because of a bond. This isn’t because of puberty. This is because…” Because he’s weak. And there’s no cure for weakness besides becoming strong, and Yuuri’s tried for so long and so hard to grow and be _more_ that he has no idea what else there is to do.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Yuuri.” She squeezes his leg.

Yuuri shuts his eyes. It sounds so simple, like it wouldn’t have horrible consequences. Like letting their bond open couldn’t ruin her body, make it so there were two people draining the onsen’s resources without barely being about to contribute anything. Like he could deal with the disappointment and frustration of his mom having to deal with this, too.

Yes, he could accept her help.

Except he _can’t_.

“I’ll be okay, mom,” he repeats, like if he says it enough it’ll be true.

She smiles at him, but it’s not hard to see the sadness lingering in her eyes. “All right. Just know that we’re here for you and we support you, no matter what. We love you regardless of what you’ve done or how you feel. You’re my Yuuri, and that will never change.”

Yuuri ducks his head, blinking rapidly. She can’t— How can she just _say_ something like that, after everything?

A small part of him whispers that maybe she says it because it’s true, but how could any of that ring true to anyone who knows Yuuri?

“Thank you,” he manages.

“It’s simply the truth. Now,” she stands up, “I have to get back downstairs, but know that there will be food in the fridge for you when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay.” Even if nothing feels okay, at least he has a family that somehow loves him. He has a house and he has meals to look forward to, even if his body and mind are both useless.

“Rest up, I know that the shifting takes it out of you.” She gives him one last smile and then leaves.

And Yuuri… Yuuri _aches_. The magic running through his veins trembles and spikes, threatening to break free and change him over again, but he barely fights it back down with steady breaths, trying to focus on the surroundings of his room.

He still has all of his Victor Nikiforov posters up. It looks like Mari hung up some new ones while he was gone, because he definitely doesn’t remember some of these. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he leaves them up. Maybe some sort of masochism? Well, Victor is pretty to look at, at least…

He sighs and rolls over in his bed, magic as calm as it ever gets these days.

He better get used to this, he guesses.

__________

Days pass. Yuuri starts to leave his room and attempts to help with chores, though it goes about as well as ever. Minako comes over daily to try and convince him to come back to her studio, but he puts it off. There’s still some time until she gets booked for choreography, and he knows that since he agreed, she’ll drag him along kicking and screaming no matter what.

He definitely regrets that now, but as he’s learned the hard way, no amount of desperate wishing and hoping and praying will turn back time.

April rolls around into Hasetsu, spring blossoms adding sparks of color to the streets, signaling that time is moving on even if Yuuri is stuck in place no matter how he tries to push forward.

He doesn’t check his phone, though.

Mari nags him that Phichit’s starting to nag _her_ , and he means to turn on his phone and send off a quick message, but he just… doesn’t.

He’s lounging in bed on an average morning, thinking about getting breakfast and fidgeting with his phone despite the screen being dark when there’s a knock on his door.

“Yuuri, don’t hole up in your room!” His mom’s voice rings through the door, her gentle tones almost shrill against the previous silence and the sensitivity of his familiar ears—since he hasn’t gone back to the studio, his random shifts haven’t calmed down as much as he’d like… “Help shovel snow!”

“Snow?” Yuuri stares for a second, and then sits up straight in bed, grabbing his glasses before peering out his window.

And it’s not just snow, it’s a _sheet_ of snow, laying thick on the ground. This definitely wasn’t in the forecast, he would’ve heard people around the onsen gossiping about it.

What’s going _on_? It’s April. This kind of thing happens in Detroit, not places like Hasetsu.

It still makes him pause a moment, though. Snow is a signature of Victor Nikiforov’s magic, and seeing it will always make Yuuri think of him. Creating an illusion with so many moving pieces is a masterpiece, and mastering weather as a physical mage is next to impossible; Yuuri’s only ever summoned a raincloud that soaked through both Phichit and Yuuri. Phichit didn’t let him hold the hamsters for a _week_ after that.

But that’s not the point right now—the point is how on _earth_ is there snow in Hasetsu?

He grabs at his phone, meaning to check the forecast—

But it’s still off.

He hesitates for a moment and then sets his phone down again without turning it on. He can ask his parents about it after he helps shovel the snow.

He digs through all his clothes to pull out the winter clothes he’d invested in while in Detroit and heads downstairs, grabbing the shovel before heading toward the door. It’s completely silent in a way that’s almost eery except for some dog barking in the neighborhood.

He opens the door and—

There’s a poodle? A brown poodle that looks exactly like—

“Vicchan?”

Wait, this dog is—

This dog is _running toward him_ , leaping up and pressing its front paws against Yuuri’s chest hard enough to send them both stumbling backward.

“No!” Yuuri tries to protect, but he’s already hitting the ground, the air knocking out of him as he tries to focus, looking up at the dog as it begins to lick every inch of his face available, making him giggle. “You’re much bigger than Vicchan!”

Almost like…

His eyes widen as he takes in the dog, how _familiar_ it is. “No, it can’t be.”

“Yuuri, isn’t he just like Vicchan?” His dad’s voice almost makes him jump, and he has to crane his neck to look back with the weight of the dog still standing on him, a very helpful paw pressed right on his bladder. “He came with a really good-looking foreign guest! He’s in the hot spring right now.”

And Yuuri recognizes that grin on his dad’s face. The older Katsuki seems kind and warm-hearted, but Mari inherited her sarcasm and dry wit from _somewhere_ , and Yuuri _knows_ that his dad would recognize this dog’s owner instantly and—

Yuuri scrambles to his feet, gently pushing off the dog on his lap, kicking off his shoes and sprinting through the onsen at a speed that he knows he’ll get yelled at for later, but it doesn’t _matter,_ not right now.

He bursts through the doors that lead to the outside pools, screeching to a stop as he sees one single man bathing, despite the snow on the greenery around him.

And he’d know this man anywhere. The silver hair and the bright blue eyes are distinctive enough that at _least_ half the world knows his name.

Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri’s hallucinating. All of the stress has caused him to lose his mind and he’s finally gone over the edge.

Except he can definitely feel the bruises from his fall with the poodle—his fall with _Makkachin_ , Victor’s poodle—and his father most definitely knew that their guest wasn’t just anyone, not to Yuuri.

Before Yuuri can find any words, Victor’s standing up and oh no he’s _naked_ , but of course he’s naked, Yuuri’s the one barging in on his time bathing in the onsen, and then he’s talking and Yuuri tries his best to listen and not _stare_.

“Yuuri! Starting today, I’m your new partner in the upcoming mageia season.” He beams at Yuuri, no doubt written anywhere on his face. “I’ll make us win the Grand Prix Final.”

And then… then he winks?

For a second Yuuri’s mind trips up on the word “partner.” Maybe Victor means a different sort of partner. Because surely if he’s seen Yuuri’s video—and by now the entire _world_ has seen that video—he’ll know that he can’t bond with Yuuri enough to perform with him.

“Huh?” Yuuri finally manages to get up, hoping desperately for some clarification. “What?”

But his ears are ringing, and his heart is thumping so loudly it’s like a drum ringing through the air between them. If Victor says anything else, it’s drowned out by the tsunami rising in Yuuri, slowly but surely.

Somehow, impossibly, Victor Nikiforov is here _for Yuuri_. It’s like every one of his most ridiculous fantasies come true. Victor’s decided to take him on for this season, and his partnerships famously only last a season long. He daydreamed about wooing Victor into staying longer, staying _forever_.

Except Yuuri can’t have this.

Yuuri can’t have Victor.

Something in Yuuri’s chest tugs, it aches, it pulls and pulls until it _shatters_ and everything that Yuuri’s been trying to force back and away for the past few days rushes to the surface. His magic implodes and breaks through his skin, rips apart his clothes as his familiar form breaks free and whimpers.

Even now, he wants to walk up to Victor and accept his offer, he wants more than anything to be able to say _yes_.

But if Victor couldn’t have guessed his situation before, Yuuri’s abrupt change now is going to be clue enough that Yuuri could _never_ compete with Victor, that he is broken beyond repair, and Victor traveled here for _nothing_.

Except he can’t say any of that.

All he can do is stare as Victor’s mouth pops open, maybe in shock, maybe in horror that Yuuri has so little control, and Yuuri can’t take it.

He does what he’s become adept at doing these past few months: he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HE'S FINALLY HERE, HALLELUJAH!!! (This is the chapter I knew Wigs was gonna be Long, because I'd planned on this happening by chapter two in my outline hAH)
> 
> Gonna keep this short because things are a little insane! Mostly normal stuff, but my mom has to go for some very serious testing this Friday, so any good vibes would be much appreciated <3
> 
> Bless the dream team, Rae and Dachi, for being fabulous, and thank _you_ guys for reading and supporting this fic! It's a fic that's very precious to me, but with such a weird concept I thought it wouldn't do very well at all--worse than Jello for sure. But I'm already being proven wrong, and I'm ????!?!?!??!?!?!!! Thank you guys <3 <3 <3


	5. Fifth

Unfortunately, there aren’t many places _to_ run in the onsen and living quarters that make up Yu-topia Katsuki. Someone’s had to have closed the front door by now, and he can’t open it on his own. He can’t count on anyone being around to help him, if they can even understand what he wants in this pathetic state.

The onsen is a large building, a business and a house, but right now it’s so tiny that it’s suffocating.

Yuuri leaps up the stairs, nearly barreling over Mari who shouts at him—but he can’t say sorry and he knows that she’s too busy to chase after him as he sprints down the hall and into his room, taking a second to nudge the door somewhat closed before leaping up onto his bed and trying to crawl under the blankets as best he can, like that will help him.

He pants, high-pitched, unconscious whines escaping his mouth from time to time despite trying to fight them back. He’s still not totally used to this form; he’s avoided it as much as he possibly could since he discovered it. He _wishes_ that he had the opportunity to love this form, to be excited about it, but right now he wants it _gone_ , he wants to rip off his fur and expose the human beneath and let him _stay_ like that.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. Maybe Victor’s joking. Maybe he’s pissed. Yeah, that’s it. Maybe he saw the video and he was so disgusted that he came to request that Yuuri stop performing _in person_. Well, lucky for him, Yuuri already plans on never setting foot in an arena _ever again_.

But then again… why would he _say_ that? He has to know that nearly every physical mage daydreams about competing with Victor—hell, some of the spiritual mages and the hybrid mages that present between physical and spiritual want to, too, despite it being almost impossible to perform a winning program. Would he tease Yuuri like that? Dangle that in front of Yuuri’s face and then pull it away just to punish Yuuri?

No. Even if he hates Yuuri, for the most part Victor is a kind person. He sometimes speaks his mind too often, Yuuri’s heard that the RMF has come after him a few times for that, but if anything that’s a sign that he’s honest. Not that he’d do something like _this_.

Yuuri whines, burying his head deeper in his sheets.

If Victor isn’t being cruel and isn’t pranking him… then that would mean the worst possible option is the truth, then.

That Victor Nikiforov, after knowing that Yuuri butchered one of his best programs, wants to not only work with Yuuri for the entire next season but be his _partner_. He thinks that Yuuri has it in him to win the Grand Prix Final—

Well, he _had_ it in him.

Yuuri has everything he could possibly want spread out in front of him. Even if Yuuri’s terrible at duet performances, it isn’t possible to fail when you’re working with Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri’s looked up to Victor for almost half his life, and now he could work with his idol, his inspiration.

But Yuuri can’t perform. He can’t control his magic as it runs feral and wild, distorting any elements he tries to touch with it, warping his own body as it destroys his life. And that means that there’s no way in _hell_ that he could form a bond with Victor Nikiforov.

If he could control his magic enough for such a precise contract, he still might absolutely ruin Victor and his career. Not only would Yuuri destroy him, he’d steal Victor from the world and become a man who’s hated for it. And he’d _deserve_ it.

Yuuri’s always thought of Victor as a genius, as someone who’s never failed to surprise him—and he’s proven that’s true. Unfortunately, Yuuri’s going to have to stay what he’s always been compared to the likes of Victor’s: an unimpressive failure of a mage who will amount to nothing, who isn’t even worth remembering his name or his face. Just another person to ask to have a “commemorative photo” with.

Well, at least Victor can enjoy the hot springs for a day or two before he goes back to Russia to find his real partner for the season. Yuuri’s never been more grateful that his family owned a tourist attraction than now. If they were fishermen or something, it would have made all of this even _more_ pointless.

The door to Yuuri’s room creaks a little as it moves.

Yuuri’s head pops up, teeth barred before his mind catches up with him, prepared to tell whoever it is to _go away_ —

Except he can’t speak.

And it isn’t a person, anyway.

Makkachin stands in the doorway, her head tilted to the side as she regards Yuuri with her wide, dark eyes. Now that Yuuri can look at her, she _does_ look different from Vicchan. Her coat has less red to it than Vicchan’s had, a little more of a grey-brown as she ages. Her nose is the wrong size on her face, and her ears are a little longer but…

But it’s been so long since Yuuri’s been in this room with a dog in it. A whimper escapes Yuuri’s snout and he sets his head back down.

Makkachin must take that as an invitation, trotting on in and leaping onto the bed. She steps all over Yuuri before settling, curled up half on top of him and panting happily before licking at his face like she’d done in the doorway.

He lets out a huff of a laugh, turning his face away slightly, even if it feels a lot less slimy with all the fur between Makka’s tongue and his skin. She’s such a good girl. Yuuri always thought she must be one from how patiently she poses with Victor for pictures, but it’s nice to have a confirmation.

It’s nice, too, having the weight on top of him like this. His breathing slows a little until it’s something more along the lines of normal, and his limbs start to feel heavy. He always gets tired after a full shift, but this is more than he’s felt before by far. The whole thing is a bit shocking, he guesses, and not to mention it hasn’t been that long since his last full shift…

Yuuri lets out a long breath as his eyes flutter shut.

What he wouldn’t give to just take that video back, erase its entire existence. Though it did bring a dog to Yu-topia, so maybe it’s not _too_ bad. Maybe he can get a dog again someday if his form settles enough that he can offer it the kind of care that it’ll need…

This time when sleep claims him, it’s nearly dreamless. The exception is something brief, something that Yuuri can barely remember, something hazy and too surreal to be reality.

Makka shifts on top of him, kicking his kidney and briefly waking him up before she settles, and then... the floorboards creak slightly.

“Oh _Yuuri_ ,” a voice breathes, and Yuuri _knows_ he’s dreaming, because there’s no way on earth that Victor Nikiforov would say his name like that. There’s no way on earth that Victor Nikiforov would sit on the bed beside Yuuri, running careful, tentative fingers through the fur of his head.

And there’s absolutely _no_ way that he’d put up with Yuuri shifting his head onto Victor’s lap, making him give a laugh before he leans back into the pile of Makka and Yuuri, his fingers more sure.

But Yuuri will indulge it nonetheless.

Something deep within Yuuri, deeper than anything he’s ever felt, unravels at Victor’s touch; the threads that make up Yuuri’s body loosening and relaxing under his hands. He feels himself shifting, more calmly than he has since before Sochi, his body fully _human_ , for once.

It’s a dream, and it’s a nice one, a good one. If Yuuri weren’t a broken mess of a person, maybe he could have something like this. Not this exactly, but maybe Makkachin asleep on him while Victor’s still living here, going to train with him, planning on being a world champion with _Yuuri_ of all people.

That would be a lot of pressure, though. Maybe it’s better if it does stay just a dream…

“ _Yuuri_!” Yuuri’s door slams open, Minako barging into his room and causing Yuuri to sit up straight and—good, he’s at least partially human again.

“Mari gave me your glasses, did you fall asleep downstairs again?” She’s speaking English, which means she’s _really_ worked up about something. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, Minako doesn’t make much sense. “And why aren’t you answering your cell, you can’t just keep—”

She stops, eyes wide as she looks at Yuuri. Something shifts at Yuuri’s side and he half-consciously reaches out to stroke Makkachin’s fur.

Except Makkachin’s fur is awfully long for a poodle, and smooth, and straight, and Makkachin definitely should _not_ be groaning like that.

With a yip, Yuuri topples off the bed and onto the floor, dragging a sheet with him to cover his _naked body_ and scrambling away while _Victor Nikiforov_ shifts on _Yuuri’s bed_ , wrapping his arms around a snoozing Makkachin whose tail wags lazily at the affection.

Yuuri tries very hard not to focus on the fact that he now knows what Victor Nikiforov’s hair feels like, and he fails miserably.

“Why is Victor asleep in _your bed_ and wearing one of the onsen’s jinbei?” Minako nearly squeaks.

“I-I don’t know?” Yuuri can’t seem to keep his familiar ears still, and he’s suddenly grateful that his tail isn’t out, or it’d be sure to be lashing restlessly. “I was going out to shovel, Makkachin barreled me over, I ran into the onsen and h-he was in there and he said…”

“Yuuri.” Minako’s tone lowers to one that Yuuri doesn’t dare ignore. “This is big news in Russia, my old performance friends are messaging me all about it. They say when he saw that video of you doing his routine, he was struck with inspiration and knew exactly what he wanted to do this coming season. The rumor mill says that he came here to be your partner, but…”

But Minako knows that Yuuri can’t perform, same as he does. Yuuri knows sometimes his mind is cruel and loves to wind itself into a spiked bear trap that will crush his hopes and dreams and desires at the slightest hint of progress. He knows sometimes he can’t help but believe things that are obviously lies to everyone else.

But Celestino recommended that he retire. Minako knows that he can’t take on a partner.

He isn’t overreacting about this, and Victor _has_ to know.

“Still! They say he came here because he chose you. Because he had to have _you_. You brought him here.” Minako’s obviously trying to drive some sort of point home, but whatever it is, it’s going right over Yuuri’s head. “It’s incredible!”

It _is_ incredible, but Yuuri’s not sure he thinks it is for the same reason that Minako’s going on about. And how can Victor be asleep throughout all of Minako’s ranting? He has to be faking.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Yuuri mutters, clutching his sheet tighter, familiar ears laying flat against his head.

“Well, it doesn’t have a lot of sense to it,” Minako admits with a shrug. “But have you ever thought about how you performed one of the most difficult routines ever created for a spiritual mage, adapted it to your physical magic, and performed that with barely a grasp of control on your powers, while out of shape, and _after_ you retired?”

Yuuri frowns. “I mean, yeah, I did that. But it wasn’t _good_. It looked like I was broken, and… and I am.”

“I won’t take such slander.”

Yuuri yips as Victor sits up, hair artfully tousled with sleep, one sleeve of his jinbei hanging from his shoulder and exposing his chest, and Yuuri doesn’t miss the way that Victor’s eyes linger on Yuuri’s own exposed skin—probably judging how out of shape he really is.

And Yuuri’s _far_ from in shape.

“W-what are you doing in my room? In my _bed_?” Yuuri manages to ask, trying to ignore the heat burning in his cheeks.

Victor frowns slightly, almost… pouts? “I was looking for Makkachin and, in the process of trying to lure her from your room, you grabbed a hold of me and wouldn’t let go, so I eventually fell asleep.”

“Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wishing he could pull his blanket over his head and hide beneath it from the world until everyone forgets any of this _ever_ happened. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Victor gives a lazy sort of smile that proceeds to wreck all of Yuuri’s thoughts in one fell swoop, a hundred-car pile-up happening in his brain. “But can we continue this conversation elsewhere? I’m _starving_. So hungry.”

“I, uh, sure!” Yuuri almost makes to stand up but stops himself at the last minute. “We can head downstairs and have anything you want to eat.”

Victor smiles and flutters his eyelashes just a little. “As your future partner, I’d like to know what _your_ favorite food is, Yuuri.”

“W-what?” Yuuri breathes. Victor can’t still be going on about that, can he? He has to know by now that Yuuri won’t ever be competing again.

“His favorite food is katsudon. He gets to eat it after competitions when he wins, otherwise it’s too unhealthy to eat regularly.” Minako has a hand placed on her hip, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them, her expression far too serious for someone that Yuuri _knows_ is almost as big of a mageia fan as he is. “Come on and let him get dressed while your food cooks.”

“Okay!” Victor beams and hops out of the bed, Makkachin following shortly behind him as he strides through the door.

Minako gives Yuuri a look that he’s very familiar with, a clear order to _hurry up_ before she follows Victor downstairs.

And Yuuri… Yuuri just sits on the floor for a minute longer, absolutely naked, while Victor Nikiforov and his dog are in his house, about to have his family’s cooking.

There have been many moments in Yuuri’s life where he was sure he had to be living in the strangest mix of a dream and a nightmare. His first international competition. The first time he saw Victor compete in person. The first time he learned a routine that was made and designed for him, and him alone. All these memories had a touch of magic that was like nothing Yuuri ever felt before, something inhuman and amazing and so large that a cold terror struck through his core.

But this is more than any of that.

This is more than Yuuri can cope with. He doesn’t even know if he has enough _clothes_ to survive this—at this rate he’s going to rip and tear through them all and have to spend the rest of his life as a nudist.

A hysterical laugh bubbles out of his lips, and he barely covers it before it grows into something too large for him to contain.

The worst part of this is that he can see how this would have played out if this had happened even so recently as a year ago. He would have barely believed it, he would never feel worth of Victor’s time, but he wouldn’t be able to turn down Victor’s offer. He would be excited.

He would be _happy_.

But now, he’s just… he’s confused and overwhelmed and he has no idea what to do. He knows that he can’t accept Victor’s offer, that’s obvious to both him and Minako. It’s obvious, it’s the right thing to do to decline him, and anything else would be insane to even consider.

Then why does Victor keep offering?

Victor’s acting a little, well, silly, but you don’t get to be a competitive genius of Victor’s caliber without having a lick of common sense. He’s a five-time world champion, he’s set and broken so many of his own records that it’d a record in and of itself, he choreographs and composes all of his own programs, he’s an athlete who’s invested his money so wisely and made such a name for himself that business magazines interview him—and Yuuri could go on and on and on.

The fact is, Victor should be able to recognize broken magic when he sees it. He’s obviously gone through puberty himself, Yuuri remembers crying when Victor took a season off to adjust to the changes of his own magic and body. Yuuri’s worse off than puberty, more broken than he’s ever seen anyone get from grief, or change, or through the adjustment of a new bond. And making a bond while Yuuri’s like this… Bonds are something that needs to be made with a clear head and a clean consciousness, the magic of them needs to be precise and determined. Everyone knows that a bond during a time like this will either make you or break you.

And Victor can’t risk being broken.

There has to be something that Yuuri’s missing. There has to be something that Victor’s not saying or not understanding about the situation. And… And if Victor keeps pushing the issue, Yuuri will just have to send him away.

 _Can_ Yuuri send him away?

Maybe Minako can do it. Maybe _Mari_ can do it. Yeah, Mari doesn’t care about Victor Nikiforov and what he’s done, it won’t matter to her what he represents.

Except this is _Yuuri_ ’s problem, and he should be dealing with it. Not leaving it to Minako to talk and feed someone who’s _apparently_ there for Yuuri and—

Yuuri sucks in a sharp breath.

Yuuri’s left Minako alone with Victor Nikiforov. Minako, who knows almost every embarrassing fact about Yuuri and isn’t afraid to share, who is bound to be harassing and cross-examining Victor when he’s a _guest_ and should be taken care of and not subjected to _Minako_.

Yuuri scrambles to his feet and slams open his closet, rummaging around and grabbing the first things he finds, throwing them on and sprinting downstairs nearly as fast as he’d run up them the first time, hoping that Minako hasn’t done too much damage yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it really me if there isn't bedsharing (and nakedness) as soon as possible? No. No, it is not.
> 
> Okay so I am an overwhelmed baffoon and my mom has her procedure THIS Friday, not last Friday. :'D And of course, there are a million other things that have popped up that I have to deal with, too. But! I'm still here and still posting!!!
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone giving this pet project fic of mine a chance <3 And an extra special thank you to the bamfs that are Rae and Dachi!!!!!!!! <3 <3 <3


	6. Sixth

Everything _seems_ calm when Yuuri walks into the family dining area, which is his first sign that something’s off. Minako isn’t exactly a quiet person, and so far Victor seems to be similar to her in that. There’s no way that they sat down here in awkward silence this whole time, not when Minako has a chance to cross-examine the best mageia competitor in the world on what he knows.

Then he catches a glimpse them and has to stop, the temperature of the room sinking to almost as frigid as it is outside with the way that they’re eyeing at each other. And the emotions don’t seem to be magic, either—Minako is a physical mage like Yuuri, only able to manipulate the elements with her specialty being air, so she couldn’t do anything like that. Victor _is_ a spiritual mage and can manipulate non-physical things like color, perception, and even sometimes feeling, but there’s an obvious difference between a magicked feeling and a _real_ feeling.

And this tension is _very_ real.

Yuuri considers backing out and running back to his room— but of course Victor catches sight of him, mouth splitting into a wide, almost heart-shaped grin.

“Yuuri!” He chirps. “I was just about to come up and see if you needed some help.”

“U-um.” Yuuri sits next to Minako and looks up at her, but she doesn’t take her eyes off of Victor. “Help me with what?”

“Getting dressed!” Victor’s smile doesn’t even remotely falter.

Yuuri just stares for a moment, waiting for a “just kidding” that never actually comes.

What.

 _What_.

Yuuri’s not even sure he knows the question he should be forming, but he knows that there are many that should be asked. Victor just said that? In front of _Minako_? To _Yuuri_? Maybe there’s some meme or something that Phichit somehow hasn’t sent Yuuri and the joke’s going over Yuuri’s head. And anyway, Victor doesn’t look like he’s trying to make a joke, he looks… pleased?

Pleased to be sitting here teasing Yuuri—or… _no_ , Victor can’t be flirting with him—even though he came here on a fool’s errand, and Victor has to _know_ that. If there was some way to doubt Yuuri’s condition from that video, it’s clear _now_ that Yuuri cannot and _will not_ compete with Victor.

“What are you doing here?” Is the question that finally pops out of his mouth, making the smile slip off of Victor’s face and making Minako blink out of her one-sided glaring match to look down at Yuuri with a blank expression.

“I told you. I’m here to be your partner for the next season. I’d love to help you choreograph your solo routine too, if you’d let me.” He’s smiling again, but it’s not the same smile as before, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, I mean what you’re _really_ doing here.”

Victor’s expression gains an edge. “You think I’m lying to you?”

“There’s no way that we can compete together!” The words blurt out of Yuuri’s mouth a little more intense than he intended, but he can’t help it. He can’t understand _any_ of this and it’s going to drive him _insane_. “I-I’m broken, and even if I weren’t I’m hardly even the same class athlete as you. You have no _reason_ to even want to work with me, and— and I—”

“You aren’t even Japanese,” Minako provides, even as she glares at Yuuri—if they didn’t have company he’d be getting a lecture for what he just said being untrue, even if Yuuri didn’t exactly _lie_. “And Yuuri isn’t Russian. You could do some traveling shows for fun and for profit, but you can’t even compete together under the same flag.

Victor’s lips press together, like he’s _insulted_ about them asking perfectly reasonable questions. “I’ve already registered with the JMF.”

“You— What?” Yuuri breathes.

“ _How_?” Minako demands, gripping the table.

Victor shrugs, face blank. “I pulled some strings, asked for a few favors. They already paid quite a handsome price to the RMF for me. My citizenship is being processed.”

“Uh.” Yuuri blinks, trying to wrap his mind around the words and make them a reality. “Don’t you have to take a test for that?”

“Yes.” Victor waves a hand vaguely. “I’m a quick study.”

“That still requires quite a bit of time.” Minako eyes him.

Victor shrugs again.

Oh. Maybe Victor’s so pushy because he wants to be out of Russia for some reason, and he’s looking for any way out? Maybe he’s in trouble? On the run from the law?

Yuuri almost snorts. No, the JMF wouldn’t have taken in Victor if he were some fugitive, no matter how desperate they were for more people to get into the sport nationally after Yuuri let them all down.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor practically purrs, leaning forward and sliding his hand across the surface of the table, toward Yuuri’s fingers. “Even you have to admit we’d make a stunning pair in the arena, wouldn’t we?”

And oh, they _would_. Whereas physical mages tend to have more mammalian familiar forms, spiritual mages have a wider variety of aquatic, reptilian and avian parts, even if they rarely are able to shift fully, like Yuuri can now. Victor can only partially shift, and though it isn’t unusual, it was still an inspiration to Yuuri for how far he got with how few features he had. Victor’s familiar features are avian and are simply white wings with grey markings, and a few stray feathers on his back. At least, that’s all he’s ever performed with, but it still makes him look absolutely angelic, like a dream.

Sometimes Yuuri wonders if their familiar forms are illusions in general, but he’s touched the webbing between his mother’s fingers, and he once pulled at the fins on his dad’s face when he was younger. Not to mention he’s performed with Phichit and his beta-like fins that trail behind him like the lightest, softest silk—and honestly get in the way more often than not.

But Victor’s wings wouldn’t get in the way, he’s too experienced for that. They would be a clash of white feathers and black fur, flashes of grey and yellow—no, silver and gold. It would be dazzling.

It would ruin Victor.

Yuuri pulls away from the table, even as his cheeks flush. “No. I’m too unstable. _No_.”

“But… Yuuri, the bond might—”

“A bond might destroy us _both_.” Who knows what having another mage’s powerful magic attached to his might do. Yuuri would rather not find out—even as a part of him _wants_ to give in. Wants to know what it’s like to have a bond with _Victor Nikiforov_.

He’s selfish, but he won’t let himself be _that_ selfish.

“Are you saying that you haven’t already been destroyed?” Victor snaps, pulling his hand back toward himself, his words striking through Yuuri and making his skin tremble more than before—oh _no_. He’s shifting, fur and claws and teeth threatening to break free and Victor keeps _talking_. “How do you know this hasn’t—“

“Stop!” Yuuri yells, covering his ears and ducking his head, trying not to listen, trying to calm down, trying not to _feel_. “J-just be quiet, I-I can’t— I _can’t_.”

He can’t control himself.

He can’t accept Victor’s offer.

He can’t do _anything_.

Silence rings loud in his ears as his magic begins to calm beneath his skin, spiking slightly as he realizes that he just yelled at his idol—

But so _what_? He’s finally caught Victor’s attention, he finally has what he wants in front of him, but he can’t take it and—and Victor’s being an _ass_ about it. A stubborn ass that doesn’t know how to back down and take no for an answer.

Yuuri looks up, familiar ears flat against his head, sharp teeth bared more by instinct than anything else—but he doesn’t fight it. He meets Victor’s eyes, the striking blue of a summer’s sky against the rumbling clouds in Yuuri’s mind, and doesn’t look away. “My answer is no. It’s been no this entire time. If you keep pushing, I’ll shift again because I can’t _control_ it, just like I wouldn’t be able to control a fresh bond. More talk would be pointless. Do you understand?”

Victor looks at him for a long moment, and it’s only because he’s staring that Yuuri notices how Victor’s shoulders rise and he hunches in a little, how his jaw twitches and his eyes dim a little.

But in the end, Victor nods. “I understand. I’ll—”

“I’m so sorry for the wait!” Yuuri’s mom walks into the room, smiling and completely oblivious to the atmosphere—

No, that’s a lie. She _seems_ oblivious, but she’ll never be anything but sharp as a tack. She’s probably trying to diffuse it, but she doesn’t know exactly what she’s walking into.

“Here you are.” She sets down the dish in front of Victor with a pair of chopsticks and a drink, then does a quick glance around the room—probably taking a second to feel it out with her magic. She’s always been good at working a room, something that Yuuri wishes he inherited. “I hope you’ll excuse me, there have been more people than usual coming in for a warm meal with the unusual weather. But I hope you enjoy!”

And Yuuri envies her as she leaves the room.

Yuuri hesitates for a moment to look away from the door, breathing for just a moment. He might not be on the verge of a shift if he’s _lucky_ , but he’s still unstable. He’s felt patches of fur come and go on his limbs throughout the conversation, and it’s only a matter of time before he has to drag his tail out of his pants. Since he could _use_ more embarrassment like that. He feels like he’s trying to keep up a house with no steady support, propping up one wall just in time for another to collapse.

But by the time he looks back, Victor’s body language is completely flipped, his eyes wide as he reaches for the chopsticks and says, “Wow! Amazing!” with a grin that’s maybe just a touch too wide.

“It’s the onsen’s specialty, katsudon.” Minako leans her elbow onto the table, propping her hand in her palm, eyes once again focused on Victor like she could slice open and dissect the man with her eyes—honestly, Yuuri wouldn’t put it past her.

“And Yuuri’s favorite!” Victor’s eyes are bright, like he’s actually excited after all this drama.

Yuuri stiffens, then relaxes a bit. Minako told him that, hadn’t she? Back up in his room, before the chaos moved down here.

“Yes, it is,” Minako mutters, almost… disgusted? Unamused?

What _happened_ before Yuuri got there?

Victor pays her no mind, however, examining a bite of food before putting it in his mouth and exclaiming, “Vkusno! Delicious! Too good for words! Is this what God eats?”

Minako and Yuuri exchange a look. It’s not like anything changed since the tense atmosphere of Yuuri telling Victor _no_. This behavior is… odd. Unnatural. Obviously deflecting. Yuuri knows a thing or two about that.

“I’m glad you like it.” Yuuri chooses his words carefully, even if he does mean them—really, under any other circumstances this would all be a part of one of his wildest fantasies. He _does_ want Victor to enjoy his family’s cooking. Yuuri can’t eat a lot of katsudon because he gains weight so easily, it’s a treat for when he wins his competitions—but Victor has no reason to know that.

“I _love_ it,” Victor’s quick to correct, and Yuuri should really be paying more attention to everything but there’s a small grain of rice that’s stuck to Victor’s cheek and he has the _overwhelming_ urge to lean forward and wipe it away.

But no, no, no, that would be _entirely_ inappropriate. Yuuri just rejected Victor. He should just say goodbye, and—

“I’ve loved everything about Japan so far.” Victor’s still smiling, not as wide, but it touches his eyes as he looks at Yuuri. “In fact, I think I’ve seen enough to decide it would be a wonderful place to take a vacation until I have to… well, to return to competing.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but no words come out. Wait. Victor isn’t packing all of his things and instantly leaving? He’s staying in the country? Surely he means that he’s going to travel elsewhere, beyond tiny little Hasetsu and the let-down that Yuuri slapped him in the face with.

“Oh?” Minako leans forward a bit. “How much of it have you seen? Where are you staying?”

“Well, I only just hopped off the plane and took a train right over to Hasetsu, though the ride was stunning!” Victor takes a moment to take a bite, maybe needing a moment to chew over his thoughts. “And I’m staying here, of course!”

Yuuri blinks. “You’re— what?”

“This is a resort, is it not? You must have at least one room available.” Victor flutters his eyelashes.

“Uh,” is all Yuuri manages to get out, watching as Victor swipes the rice from his cheek and pops it into his mouth with probably too much attention.

“This is a place to bathe in the hot springs. That’s _it_.” Minako sits up straight. “The only room available is the bathhouse.”

Victor’s face falls, his eyes focusing on Yuuri. “But I thought…”

Had Victor even bothered to run the onsen’s website through a translating app? Yuuri’s avoided his home in a lot of ways, but he manages to stay on top of keeping the onsen’s website running smoothly and makes sure that information is clear for Japanese speakers, at least. He can’t imagine it’d be too difficult to notice there aren’t any rooms available.

“I… ah.” Victor visibly deflates, all confidence falling from his posture in one fell swoop. It’s an odd and unsettling sight; Victor’s a celebrity, a prominent figure in many countries and cultures, an idol and a hero. And he’s defeated by his own lack of research. He bows his head. “I suppose I’m not staying anywhere, then. I deeply apologize, it seems I didn’t look into things as much as I should have. Many things, apparently.”

Yuuri can tell the words aren’t directed at him, but they smart all the same. Victor seems to have assumed a lot. He assumed that Yu-topia would give him a room, and even if it was an inn, he’d thought they’d put him up with no reservation. He assumed that bonding with Yuuri would be fine, with no consequence. He assumed that Yuuri would want to be his partner for this upcoming season—which, to be fair, wouldn’t be a leap of an assumption to make. Yuuri’s never been shy to talk about his love of Victor and Victor’s work to the media. But Yuuri isn’t desperate enough to ruin his career over it.

Which begs the question, why is _Victor_ so desperate? Why would someone of his class self-sabotage like this? Even if Yuuri weren’t suffering from this dysfunction of his magic, his career is pathetic compared to Victor’s, his magic isn’t nearly so precise or impressive. He has nothing to offer.

Whatever Victor is looking for in Japan, it obviously isn’t a successful career with Yuuri. He’s escaping or looking for something, and…

Well, Yuuri can relate to that. Isn’t that what he’s been suffering with these past few months? Even his magic is trying to crawl from his body, to reach for and seek and break into everything that it touches. And it isn’t like Yuuri’s found any answers, it’s not like he’s improved much since he got here.

But what he does know is that Hasetsu is a better place than Detroit—and probably Saint Petersburg—to stop and to search for whatever he needs. It’s easy to lose yourself in the hustle and bustle of everything moving around you, to see the crowds pass you by and feel more isolated than you would be if you were on the top of a mountain or in the middle of the sea. To know you could be plucked off the street, existence suddenly ended, and it would be of little importance to every face that you see.

Hasetsu is different. You’re not going to know the name of everyone in town, but people wave or nod at each other in the streets, they make you feel known. And when you are alone, which is far from uncommon in a town that’s slowly fading away, you aren’t _actually_ alone. The ocean haunts your steps, the crashing of the waves echoing through the town. The wind runs tender fingers through your hair, caresses your cheeks. There are beaches to wander as your footsteps break down the thoughts in your head until they’re as fine as the sand beneath your feet. The hot springs are there to wash away whatever remnants still lurk within your body, loosening your muscles and letting it all seep out.

It feels like a dead end to Yuuri because it is, but he understands why so many people come here in search of a new beginning.

Yuuri looks at Victor, _really_ looks at him. Takes in how there are slight bags under his eyes, despite an obvious attempt made at concealer. Takes in the exhausted set of his shoulders, and the downward cast of his eyes. Takes in how his clothes and hair are still a little rumpled for not pulling away from Yuuri for _whatever_ reason, craving that contact enough to sleep in the same bed as him.

Yuuri heaves a sigh from his lungs, ears tilting out toward the side. He’s as soft as his mother is; he doesn’t have a right to tease her about it with Mari anymore.

“We have an old banquet room that we can clear out for you.” Yuuri glances down at the table, tracing the grain of it with his finger. “You can stay here if you’d like.”

“I… really?”

Yuuri looks up, and Victor’s eyes are so wide and so hopeful that it makes Yuuri’s heart give a funny little beat in his chest. “Yeah. Just help out, maybe. Because I can’t with, well, you know.”

“Yuuri.” Minako grabs his arm, pulling his attention from Victor to meet her eyes for just a moment before asking in Japanese, “Are you sure?”

Yuuri turns back to Victor to watch a slow smile growing across Victor’s face, not triumphant, but _delighted._ It lights up his whole face, and Yuuri’s traitor heart gives that odd thump again.

He doesn’t know Victor, and he sure as hell doesn’t understand him, but Yuuri understands what it’s like to be lost. And he refuses to be Victor’s partner, to bond with him, but if all he needs is a lighthouse to guide him back to shore?

Yuuri can offer him that.

“I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooooo boy it has been a TIME. I posted [this update](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1298058035911446535), but to update you further: I'm now having medical issues, my mom's surgery is Monday, and I got fired from my day job by someone entirely selfish and entitled who doesn't care that I'm paying for my family's house!!! I know I _could_ have taken more time off, but that would make me more anxious--the site I cannot name (if you check out the link above, you'll know what I'm talking about) is my only source of income atm and if I don't post, I'll get even more anxious. So, boys!!! Being disasters!!! No one is surprised.
> 
> I've gotta go run because my job was actually at a house I was living in, so I need to pack, pick up my sister from work, job search, and get work done (so replies will take a bit, though I read and adore every comment <3)! Yeet 2020!!! I hope that you're all surviving as best as you can, and thank you so, so much for reading <3 <3 <3


	7. Seventh

Yuuri might have been sure in the moment that he wanted Victor to stay, but it doesn’t take too long for him to regret that decision.

The rest of Victor’s meal passes in peace, at least, even if Minako stays grumpy throughout it. Eventually she has to leave for a class at her studio, and she drags Yuuri from the room and away from Victor as she goes.

“Why did you let him stay?” Minako hisses as they come to the entrance of the onsen and she starts putting on her shoes.

“Why do you hate him so much?” Yuuri questions back. He doesn’t really know how to explain to Minako why he let Victor stay, at least not without sounding insane to anyone not inside his own head. But more than that, Minako’s supposed to be a fan of Victor’s too. She critiques him harsher than anyone else that Yuuri’s ever known, but she still appreciates the artistry and power behind his performances, and she still freaks out with Yuuri every time he sets a new record.

She even freaked about Victor _being_ here not too long ago.

Minako sighs before standing up straight and turning to meet Yuuri’s eyes. “Well, he obviously has _expectations_ of you.”

Yuuri frowns. “Yeah, the whole bonding thing. Even if that doesn’t make much sense.”

“Yuuri, don’t pretend to be dense.” She crosses her arms. “I know you aren’t dumb, even if you like to pretend you are sometimes. You’ve noticed how he’s flirting with you.”

Yuuri’s cheeks instantly turn pink, and he _hates_ how easily he gets flustered. “H-he probably flirts with everyone. And not to mention, he was trying to convince me to be his partner, maybe he was just being nice?”

Minako snorts. “Believe me, I don’t think he’s ‘just being _nice_.’”

“What did he _say_ to you?” Yuuri stiffens, eyes searching Minako’s face. Victor wouldn’t have talked about Yuuri as… as anything like a _conquest_ , would he? And not with his old dance and magic teacher, absolutely not. Is he that crude? Did Yuuri just invite a pervert to stay in his family’s home with them?

“It wasn’t anything bad.” Minako takes Yuuri’s hands into her own. “But he’s infatuated with the image of you, Yuuri. He’s making some ridiculous decisions because of it. I don’t think that he’s here to hurt you on purpose, just… be careful.”

Yuuri frowns for a long moment. Most of the time Minako is just a really weird, eccentric aunt that Yuuri’s never had; chaotic and unpredictable. It makes him forget that Minako basically helped raise him, taught him most of what he knows about mageia and performing, and would babysit him when the onsen was too busy. Sometimes she seems to know Yuuri better than he knows himself.

So if she’s not throwing caution to the wind for once, Yuuri should listen.

“I will.” Yuuri nods. “He’ll probably get bored and move on sooner or later, anyway. There’s not much to keep him here.”

“ _Yuuri_.” Her voice is almost scolding, but she rolls her eyes. “What do you think drew him out to the middle of nowhere in the first place? Actually, you know what, never mind, you’ll figure it out.”

“What do you—”

“ _Yuu_ ri!” Victor manages to whine Yuuri’s name unlike he’s ever heard it before, and Yuuri’s not sure whether he likes it, or should hide from whatever question or demand is sure to follow it. “What’s going on? Have you seen Makka?”

Where _is_ Makkachin?

Minako heaves out a great sigh. “And that’s my cue to leave. Call me or text me if you need help with your… _whatever_ he is.” She waves her hand vaguely at the space behind Yuuri before turning around and heading outside to trudge through the blanket of snow.

That Yuuri still has to shovel up. _Crap_.

“ _Yuuri_.” Hands snake around Yuuri’s middle, and Yuuri nearly jumps out of his skin, stumbling away.

Victor stands there with a pout, a confused furrow to his brow. “Yuuri? What’s wrong?”

“Um, nothing!” Yuuri squeaks, sliding past Victor into the onsen proper, putting space between them because _that_ was… too much. He’s surprised he didn’t full-on shift with that touch.

Maybe Minako is onto something?

But how? _Why_?

“Y-you’re looking for Makkachin, yeah?” Yuuri keeps moving away, even though Victor’s letting Yuuri keep space between them.

“She wandered off after your mother when we came downstairs.” Victor tilts his head, not looking unlike a dog himself.

“Oh. I know where she is then.” Or at least he knows where Vicchan most likes to go—

 _Liked_ to go. Where Vicchan most liked to go when Yuuri was too busy to walk or to play.

Yuuri ignores the sharp pain in his chest as he tentatively motions for Victor to follow him into the onsen. Thankfully it isn’t too far to where they’re going so Yuuri doesn’t have to think of making conversation, and Victor doesn’t have time to get up to anything.

They walk into the kitchen and—

“There you are, Makka!”

Makka sits in the middle of the kitchen as Yuuri’s parents bustle around her. Technically Vicchan wasn’t allowed in the kitchen for health and safety reasons, but that never stopped him from poking in and begging for scraps from time to time. And you can tell that neither of his parents really minded considering they still move with ease around the intrusion of a dog, making no move to shoo her out.

And she makes no move to go to Victor, very pleased with herself and probably the scraps that are inevitably being sneaked to her.

“Oh, Vicchan!” Yuuri’s mom turns toward them, beaming. “Did you enjoy your meal?”

And Yuuri starts, glancing down at his feet before his mind catches up to him and that pain in his chest twists and digs deeper. Vicchan’s real name was Victor, of course his mom would use it for _this_ Victor, too, when she knows how fond Yuuri’s always been of him.

This is going to hurt, isn’t it?

“Yuuri?” Victor murmurs, his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri steps away out of instinct, missing the touch the moment it’s gone but shaking the feeling off. He really shouldn’t be encouraging Victor. He’ll end up getting attached, and then Victor will have to leave, and—it’s just not a good idea.

“I’m fine.” Yuuri keeps his eyes on Makka, refusing to look toward Victor.

It’s been _months_ , and he feels ridiculous about it, but he just can’t quite get over losing Vicchan. He was a dog, Yuuri knows most people would tease him or get exasperated if they knew how much he’s struggling, but… he wasn’t _just_ a dog. Not to Yuuri.

It’s quiet for a long moment, but eventually Victor breaks it. “Your food was _amazing,_ Hiroko. I didn’t know that anything could taste so divine.”

Yuuri’s mom squirms a little, obviously happy. “I’m so happy that you enjoyed it! If you’re in the area for a while, you should come back and eat again. It’ll be my treat!”

“About that…” Yuuri starts, glancing between his parents. “Victor doesn’t have a place to stay. I was thinking, um…”

“You and Mari can clear out the banquet room, and he’ll stay there.” Hiroko nods, decided before Yuuri can even suggest the same thing.

“Thank you.” Victor bows his head slightly, and Yuuri’s not sure if it’s out of politeness, or because there’s a slight strain on his voice and he wants to hide the expression on his face—but why would Victor be so emotional about staying at a half-dead onsen? “I appreciate it more than I can say.”

“Oh, nonsense. You mean a lot to our Yuuri, so you mean a lot to us!” Yuuri’s mom beams.

Victor turns toward Yuuri then, eyes wide with questions that Yuuri can’t even fathom—and to be honest, Yuuri doesn’t want to. There’s something in that look that’s too raw to touch without feeling it himself.

“What did I hear about me moving crap around?” Mari observes the room as she leans against the doorframe, looking at the room with an unamused set to her brow.

“Uh, Victor will be staying with us?” Yuuri tries to give her an apologetic smile. He really didn’t mean to pile things onto everyone’s plate while he’s still more or less useless. He feels pretty stable right now, but that doesn’t mean that one of his hands might not suddenly turn into a paw, or his whole leg turn into an animal’s and make him limp around with mis-matching joints. “He’ll be using the banquet room.”

“Wait.” Mari stands up straight. “Is all the crap that truck dropped off in the back _his_?”

“Oh, it did arrive!” Victor gives a wide, vapid grin. “I hadn’t checked my phone in a while and I was starting to wonder…”

“Well, you should help him out,” Yuuri’s dad pipes in helpfully as he pats Makkachin on his head.

Mari heaves a great sigh, exchanging a look with Yuuri. Arguing with their parents about hospitality is like trying to knock down a brick wall with a chopstick. “Fine. Whatever. Yuuri, you want to take care of the banquet room and I’ll start bringing his junk up?”

What choice does he have? He nods.

She nods back. “And Victor, you—”

“And Makkachin needs her walk after being on a plane for so long!” Victor beams, giving a quick whistle and that makes Makkachin trot right on over.

Mari places her hands on her hips, lips pulling into a sneer. “Hey, don’t you avoid—”

“Mari, he’s a _guest_.” Their mom tuts.

“I’m sure he’s had a stressful day of travel, let him relax a little.” Their dad leans back from his pot to give a disappointed frown.

Yuuri could say that Victor most definitely had a nap, but then he’d have to explain _where_ Victor had slept and with _who_ so he keeps his mouth firmly shut.

Mari just throws her hands up in the air, probably tired of being cut off. “Whatever! Come on Yuuri.”

“But won’t you come for a walk with me?” Victor reaches out, taking Yuuri’s hand and lacing their fingers together so easily, so naturally, that it stuns Yuuri completely still for a second.

Victor is warm. And real. And it’s almost as if the magic under his skin quiets a bit as Yuuri’s focus is so taken by Victor—

But his infatuation with his idol won’t change anything, not with his illness, not with his inability to bond with him.

Yuuri pulls away, trying not to be unkind but Victor’s face falls for a quick moment all the same. “N-no, sorry. I’m not very good company, anyway. But I hope you enjoy the fresh air. I, um, I’m going. See you later.”

And Yuuri flees, running up to the banquet room two steps at a time and taking a moment to just _breathe_ once he’s in the safety of the quiet room.

Why is Victor so _desperate_? He could go anywhere, do anything, meet anyone he wanted to, and yet he’s cornering Yuuri in his own home, in the middle of nowhere, trying to form a bond with him. Which is such a terrible idea in _general._ And even if it weren’t, Yuuri’s never been good at bonds. He’s easily broken most of the ones he’s had with his duet partners, the exception being Phichit—but even that isn’t a very strong bond. Yuuri’s not good at sharing himself, at letting people in. It’s easier with the contracts needed to use an arena, it’s a simple transaction.

But people are much, much more complicated.

Minako’s worries wander back into the forefront of his mind, nagging at him. Could Victor just be using him? Could he have seen a pathetic fan and wanted to take advantage of how desperate he thought Yuuri would be? Yuuri’s incredibly mentally weak, he can see himself being such an easy target, especially for someone like Victor.

But… no. Even when the media’s eyes aren’t on him, Victor’s kind. When he asked for a commemorative photo, he thought he was being kind to a fan, not insulting a competitor. When Yuuri firmly said no, Victor backed off of being Yuuri’s partner. Even Minako said that she doesn’t think that Victor would hurt Yuuri on purpose, she just worries about him. Victor’s touchy, and he’s weird, but… Yuuri doesn’t think he’s bad.

And Yuuri knows part of it is because Victor’s been his idol for so long. They always say not to meet your heroes, right? Well, Yuuri’s already met Victor, and Victor’s already let him down, so where is there to go from here?

Yuuri snorts softly. He guesses that’s what he’s about to find out.

“Wow, you made so much progress,” Mari grumbles as she drops a box to the floor, startling Yuuri into squeaking.

“Sorry, sorry!” Yuuri scrambles around, starting to clear up the space and push all the things they’ve stored in here into the closet on the side of the room, almost dropping it all as part of his arm decides to shift in the middle of picking up a load of stuff.

Mari steps forward to keep him upright. “Hey, no need to rush. I know you like this guy, but he’s the one busting into our house and getting a free place to stay.”

“Mom and Dad would throw you out onto the street if they heard you say that,” Yuuri mutters as he finishes his trip, only pausing when Mari puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Why _is_ he here?” She raises an eyebrow. “You said you never met him, right?”

“I… Not really, no. He says he wants to be my partner for this season of mageia, but being my partner means bonding, and…”

She sucks in a breath. “Yeah, you can’t do that.”

Yuuri nods. “That’s what I told him.”

“And… he’s still staying?”

“I guess?” Yuuri gives a shrug. “He said he was enjoying Hasetsu, and that he needed a break. And… I can get that. He didn’t have a place to stay, and I guess everything that Mom and Dad taught me kicked in. So, he’ll be here until he gets bored.”

She just stares at him as he rambles, and then keeps staring for a few minutes afterward. “Good.”

“What?” Yuuri squints at her. “You _like_ having another guest to take care of?”

“ _Fuck_ no.” Mari laughs. “But I like how you look when you talk about him. Maybe he needs a vacation, but I think you do, too.”

“From what?” Yuuri pulls his shoulder from Mari’s grip, looking away. “I’m not _doing_ anything here. Not anything helpful, at least.”

Mari taps Yuuri’s forehead with her pointer finger, drawing his attention back to her. “You need a break from being in here all the time. Besides, this guy might be good for business, right?”

“I mean, maybe? He is an international athlete…” And Victor’ll probably draw a lot of press just disappearing like this, huh. Yuuri does _not_ miss the press, but yeah, they’ll need somewhere to eat, and the locals have always helped talk the onsen up. At least something good might come of this whole mess.

“Okay then, let’s finish this up and make sure the onsen’s prepared then, yeah?” She smiles at him, and he nods in response.

If only it were that easy, though. Yuuri finishes cleaning up the banquet room pretty quickly, but when he goes down to help Mari he finds an entire _mountain_ of furniture and boxes. Did Victor have his entire apartment shipped here? He could probably afford to, Yuuri realizes as he makes what feels like the dozenth trip up the stairs, hauling a _bust_ of all things. He kind of hopes he shifts and drops the damn thing.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t.

He remembers having to carefully pick through all of his belongings in Detroit to figure out what to donate and what he could keep and afford to send home with him. He remembers how much his few boxes cost to ship and he nearly has a heart attack trying to do the math and figure out the price of all this.

Eventually, Mari has to give up and get back to helping their parents, leaving Yuuri to haul everything up by himself. There’s no way that Victor’s still out walking Makkachin, not unless he wants to freeze in the snow. Did he even change before heading out?

Honestly, after hauling all of this crap, Yuuri kind of hopes Victor does get a little frostbite.

Finally, he hauls the last box up the stairs, dropping the thing and nearly collapsing on top of it, his familiar ears turned out and tail hanging in defeat. Maybe if he’s lucky he can go and soak in the hot springs. He’s never felt more out of shape in his _life._

“Wow!” Victor’s voice nearly scares Yuuri from his skin. When the _hell_ did he get to the room? “What a classic, tiny room. Is there a sofa?”

A _sofa_? After all of that, he’s worried about a _sofa_? Yuuri’s honestly shocked he hasn’t already hauled one up the stairs in the blur of the sheer amount of _stuff_ that Victor has.

“No,” Yuuri manages to huff out, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry it’s so small, we only had this unused banquet room for a guest to stay in.”

Victor turns toward Yuuri, giving him a picture-perfect smile while Makka trots around to explore the room. “You look anxious.”

 _No_ , Yuuri looks like he’s about to _pass out_ , but he doesn’t have the energy to bother to correct him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be paying the bill for whatever my stay here costs your family! I don’t intend to be a burden _.”_

 _Too late_ , Yuuri almost spits out, but then Victor’s kneeling in front of where he’s still collapsed on the floor, and his brain grinds to a sudden halt.

“Since I’m staying here, we should get to know each other. Tell me everything about you, Yuuri.” Victor’s voice lowers as he leans in and brushes his fingers along the underside of Yuuri’s jaw. “What is your arena like here? What’s in this city? Is there anyone that you’re pursuing?”

Victor’s other fingers trails along Yuuri’s arm, reaching his hand and taking it in his own. “Before I settle in, let’s build some trust in our relationship.”

At that last word, at the concept of _relationship_ consisting as some sort of connection between Yuuri and Victor, Yuuri’s mind starts _screaming._ His heart hammers in his chest, his cheeks _burn_ , and he can’t take it, he can’t take _this_ , and he scrambles away from Victor, claws breaking free of his fingertips and giving him more traction.

“What is it, Yuuri?” Victor’s voice is back to normal, and his eyes are wide and… shocked? “Why do you keep running away?”

“Uh, no reason!” Yuuri’s voice squeaks and he _wishes_ he could blame it on a sudden shift, but he knows better.

Why wouldn’t he be scared? Victor Nikiforov is in the same house as him and maybe Minako is right, maybe Victor wants…

 _No_.

Yuuri can’t think about it, he can’t consider it, it doesn’t exist. Victor Nikiforov is so much, too much and Yuuri just _can’t_ anymore.

“Um, dinner should be ready shortly, but please take all the time you need to unpack!” He blurts before scrambling away and down the hall, slamming the door of his room shut and hiding beneath his covers, as is quickly becoming habit.

He really shouldn’t have to keep hiding in his own home, but at least this time he’s still human.

This was such a mistake. No way in hell is Yuuri going downstairs for dinner service, he’s going to sneak downstairs at midnight and scavenge something from the kitchen when everyone else is long asleep. For now, he’s just going to sit here. And breathe. Or at least try to.

He should never have let Victor stay here. He can’t handle this. No one should have to handle this. Victor needs too much from Yuuri that he can’t give, and he has expectations of Yuuri that he could never, ever fulfill. There’s no way on earth this can end well.

And yet… it’s not the worst thing Yuuri’s ever dealt with. If he’s being truthfully and brutally honest with himself, he doesn’t feel too awful about it all. He feels better than he’s felt in _days_ , since at least before the video went viral. Victor’s too much, more than Yuuri knows how to handle, but he doesn’t feel like he’s about to lose control, not like he did this morning. It’s almost like there’s a challenge laid out before him, something that he can finally handle in his broken, twisted state.

So, maybe inviting Victor to stay at his home was a mistake.

But… Yuuri’s not sure he’d take back the offer if he could. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throwing this together real quick while I have a second and I'm able to focus on a computer screen! A lot of rough stuff going on irl right now but I don't have the stomach to get into it, so I'm sorry for the delay but I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3


	8. Eighth

The building settles around Yuuri, the hum of activity and rowdy guests slowly fading away to the footsteps of his family in the hall, and then the deafening silence that only comes after a snowfall.

No one comes to get him from his room for supper, though that’s not surprising. There was some sort of sporting event today, and that’s the only time that the onsen can reliably assume they’ll be somewhat busy. With the chaos of Victor showing up and needing so much help on top of that, he doubts his family sat down to have a meal together. They probably didn’t notice he hasn’t come downstairs.

It’s a bit of a relief, even if it’s a little sad, too.

He mostly drifts in and out of sleep while he waits, considering turning on his phone but not willing to know what everyone’s saying. If Minako knew about what was going on, then it’s going to be spreading like wildfire. And he can only imagine what everyone had to say after him butchering Stammi Vicino went up, but supposedly luring Victor away from Russia? They’re going to want to eat him alive.

Luckily he doesn’t have to do anything with mageia ever again—

Except that he already promised that he’d go along with Minako to help with choreography, and there’s no way that any competitive mage isn’t going to know Japan’s fallen ace and the mess that he’s created.

Yuuri groans into his pillow, the fur along his skin shifting and changing as his thoughts grow more and more uncomfortable.

It can’t help that when the media catches up to _exactly_ where Victor is hiding that Victor’s still going to be in Yu-topia. Yuuri’s not going to throw him out on the street, but it’d be nice if Victor could just _not_ be here. He wouldn’t have to deal with the confusion of his idol just showing up out of nowhere then. And he’s acting so… so _familiar_ with Yuuri. They’ve barely interacted at all before Victor decided to run off to Japan. Is Victor that used to being spoiled and getting everything he wants?

If you’d asked Yuuri even a few days ago, he’d say he’d do absolutely anything for Victor Nikiforov to just look Yuuri’s way, but he’s not so sure that would’ve been a true statement. Not when Victor looking at him is so painful and devastating now.

Yuuri’s stomach growls loudly, interrupting the hurricane of thoughts and fears and worries whirling around in his head and making him pop his head out of his nest of blankets he’s wound himself into.

It’s well after midnight now, and it’s been absolutely silent for several hours. Neither his familiar ears or his regular ears pick up any sign of movement, his only companion in the quiet being his own breathing and heartbeat.

With careful movements, Yuuri slips out of bed and puts his glasses on, blinking the world into focus. It would be helpful with all this random shifting if his magic would just shift his eyes and _keep_ them shifted so he doesn’t need glasses, but he only seems to have perfect eyesight when he’s fully shifted.

Which it’s good he has decent eyesight then, at least. Fitting glasses for some weird, wolf-like creature sounds like hell.

The onsen always feels different during the night. Maybe it’s because Yuuri will always associate it with sneaking out late to practice when his mind wouldn’t quiet, heartbeat thundering in his ears at just the thought of being caught—even though, now that he’s older, he knows his family probably knew what he was up to all along. No one in his family is stupid, and Yuuri’s never been good at being subtle.

Still, there’s something foreboding in the dark shadows that gather in the corners and stretch along the walls and the floor, something calculating in the silence that’s only interrupted by the occasional, unavoidable creak of the floor beneath Yuuri’s feet. It’s his own home, he knows his parents would rather have him feed himself, he’s not doing anything _bad_ , but there’s a more primal fear of the nighttime that he can’t shake.

Yuuri finally makes his way to the kitchen, stepping inside and flipping on the lights with a wince. Have they _always_ been so bright? He blinks a few times, giving a moment for the searing white to fade from his eyes— And he freezes.

He’s not along in the kitchen.

Victor’s sitting on the stool that Yuuri’s mom sits on to cut onions, wrapped in another green jinbei—tied properly this time—a steaming cup in his hands, eyes wide as he looks at Yuuri.

For a long moment everything’s absolutely still, until Makkachin—who Yuuri completely missed laying at Victor’s feet—trots over and nudges her face into one of Yuuri’s limp hands.

Yuuri can’t help the flutter of a smile on his lips as he lets his attention focus for a moment on Makka’s lovely brown curls and dark eyes. She’s such a beautiful and sweet dog, and it’s so nice to have her in the house. She doesn’t fill Vicchan’s void, nothing ever will, but running his fingers through her thick fur dulls the jagged edges of the hole that wound left in him.

Unfortunately, Makka won’t be able to save him from this whole situation, though. When Yuuri looks back up at Victor, his face is unreadable, half-shrouded in shadow by the fluorescent light.

“Your eyes glow in the dark, did you know that?”

Yuuri jolts at the sound of Victor’s voice, deafening among the quiet. “They… what?”

“I knew someone was there before you turned on the light because, well, I heard you, but then I saw your eyes.” He takes a sip of his tea, eyes searching Yuuri’s face for something that Yuuri can only fathom at. “Are they always like that?”

Yuuri hesitates a moment to answer, briefly wondering if he can escape the situation without being horribly rude—all he wanted was some _food_. But he gives up, shaking his head. “Not always. And besides, they just reflect light. They don’t glow.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Victor tilts his head a little, his eyes not moving from Yuuri. “Though it doesn’t matter.”

Yuuri frowns. “Yeah it does, there’s a huge difference. Glowing would just be weird _.”_

Victor shrugs, finally looking away toward his mug. “They’re beautiful either way.”

And Yuuri’s cheeks instantly _burn_. Victor still hasn’t given up whatever this game is. Except…

Except there’s no cheeky grin or sultry tone to his voice. Just an observation. Like he said it because he meant it, not whatever was going on earlier.

It makes Yuuri stand up, drawing Victor’s eyes back to him.

“Do you mind if I make myself something?” Yuuri gestures at the kitchen. “I missed dinner earlier.”

“Oh, you too?” Victor smiles blandly.

“Wait, why did _you_ miss dinner?” It’s not like Victor’s particularly shy, and he seemed to earnestly adore Yuuri’s mom’s cooking earlier. Unless he’s an amazing liar?

Victor gives another shrug. “I lost track of time, I suppose. I had been… doing research. What about you?”

“I’d been busy.” If Victor’s going to give a half-answer, then Yuuri doesn’t feel bad about giving his own. He had been busy getting lost in his own head, even if not coming down to eat was a choice he made separately. “Are you just, uh, going to drink tea?”

“Oh.” Victor looks at his cup. “Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure about what a few things in the cooler were, and when I was poking around I found some tea—which at least I recognized, even if I’m not entirely sure what it is. I thought it might help me relax, at least. And then you came down!”

“Ah.” That has to be… a little terrifying, honestly. To be alone and hungry in a home and country that you don’t know, and don’t have any real friends in. Yuuri remembers how frightening Detroit had seemed that first month, and he’d had a whole team of people there to support him and his skating. And it was easier when Phichit came later on, but…

“I didn’t mean to steal anything I shouldn’t!” Victor sets down his tea and raises his hands. “I know this isn’t my own home, I was just going to grab something simple, and I, well. I didn’t find it, I suppose.”

“Do you want to help me make something to eat?” Yuuri scratches at Makka’s head, just to have something to do. “For both of us, I mean. I’m not that great of a cook, but I can make some things.”

Victor looks at Yuuri, that odd expression back on his face. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced than they were earlier, and his hair isn’t as smooth and polished as he’d been keeping it all day. Yuuri doesn’t like how tired Victor looks, but… it’s nice to see him looking and acting a little more human. “I’d love that, Yuuri.”

Yuuri tries to keep the flush on his cheeks from deepening.

He fails.

Though Victor’s probably already noticed, Yuuri’s quick to grab out some vegetables for Victor to cut, to keep his eyes on the counter and _away_ from Yuuri in case he makes an ass of himself if he shifts in the middle of something. He’s been mostly banned from the kitchen since almost giving himself a third-degree burn. Multiple times.

There are probably plenty of things pre-chopped and pre-prepared ready to go, but considering how little Yuuri can do to help out, he doesn’t want to steal from the hard work of his family’s prep.

So, for now, he’s not afraid to use Victor.

The sound of Victor’s knife is a steady slice against the chopping board as Yuuri starts preparing some rice and gathering a few ingredients and pans. It’s nice to have such a variety; he adjusted to the cuisine available in America well enough, but the limited stocks of ingredients at the local Asian markets were disappointing, to say the least. Not to mention that Asia covers a huge swath of countries and cultures, and only so much of it could be things that Yuuri was familiar with. He might be having a little too much fun grabbing familiar sauces and spices he hasn’t seen in years, honestly. He almost forgets to check on Victor.

By the time he remembers that he needs some vegetables to make this a meal and turns around, Victor’s already done himself, leaning against the counter and watching Yuuri work.

Yuuri bites back a sigh as his cheeks heat up again. And he’d _just_ gotten rid of the last of the blush on his cheeks. He clears his throat. “Here, throw it all in the pan.”

Victor nods and does as he’s told, picking up the cutting board and scraping it all in. It’s probably a little much for two people, but Yuuri can eat more of the concoction tomorrow—he won’t let it go to waste.

But now that Yuuri knows Victor is watching, he can practically _feel_ his gaze over Yuuri’s shoulder, eyes catching on every one of his movements. He _knows_ that Victor isn’t close enough to feel his heat hovering behind Yuuri, and yet there’s the ghost of it against his skin. He keeps expecting a touch or a graze of Victor’s hand or _something_ , but either Victor’s learned his lesson or he’s trying a new approach.

Either way, Yuuri’s about to lose his mind in the awkward, tense quiet.

“What do you like about Hasetsu?” Yuuri finally asks, settling on something that isn’t the weather. “What is it that’s good enough that you want to stay here?”

Victor’s quiet for just a touch too long, just enough time for Yuuri to assume that he asked the wrong question and Victor isn’t going to answer at all. But Victor’s voice is quiet when he says, “I suppose I’m just fascinated by things here. Besides, I don’t have anywhere else to go right now.”

“What?” Yuuri turns to look at Victor, but his face is blank. “You could go _anywhere_. Literally anywhere. You’re not stuck here.” Not like Yuuri is.

Victor shrugs. “I already told you, I’m not competing for Russia. My apartment is still there, I’m still paying for it. Yakov isn’t accepting my calls, but maybe he could help me train. Otherwise, I… I’m not sure where I’d like to be in Japan. I’m not sure…” Victor’s eyes lose focus for a moment before he smiles, but it reaches no farther than his lips. “For now, I want to get to know Hasetsu. Would you show me around, Yuuri?”

Yuuri can only stare at Victor. He’d forgotten about the fact that Victor said he’d transferred _everything_ over to Japan. A part of him thought Victor had been joking, or being dramatic, or… _anything_ other than this being reality. Maybe Yuuri’s been in a bit of shock, if he’s being honest.

And who _wouldn’t_ be? Victor has no reason to want him. Even if there’s something decent about that video that the triplets posted, it’s not worth all of this. It wouldn’t even be worth a visit. Maybe Yuuri could justify Victor sharing something on social media at the most. Some polite, maybe vaguely kind comment before the viral infection that is Yuuri’s horrible luck dies off and leaves him alone.

But instead, Victor watched the video and saw _something_ that had him dropping his entire life and running half-way around the world.

Yuuri isn’t about to change his mind on his decision to not compete with Victor. It’s beyond being practical, it’s being safe. It’s being _sane_. He never thought that Victor would be anything but the same about something like this—you don’t become a champion like Victor without practice and precise control, without a life dedicated to your craft. This entire choice is such a polar opposite to all that, and Yuuri’s curious as to _why_ he thinks this is even an option.

Yuuri has his idol standing right here in front of him, posing a question that Yuuri can’t possibly answer.

But he wants to try to.

“Ah, you don’t have to.” Victor takes a step back and looks away and Yuuri realizes he’s been caught up in his head for way too long. “If I truly make you that uncomfortable, please tell me. I can leave. I didn’t mean to intrude. I… I made assumptions, and—”

Yuuri steps forward, taking Victor’s wrist in his hand before he can even think about it. “I don’t mind taking you around Hasetsu, Victor. I-I’m getting to know it again myself, though? I’m not the best tour guide. I’m honestly not really a fun person in general, but I can show you around.”

“Are you sure?” Victor meets Yuuri’s eyes and doesn’t pull away his hand. “You don’t seem… fond of me here.”

“I… I’m a fan,” Yuuri mutters, but doesn’t dare break the connection of their locked eyes despite wanting to _desperately_. “And I…”

A smile flickers across Victor’s lips. “Yes, I guessed from the number of posters in your room.”

The color drains from Yuuri’s face, his gut spiraling and splatting against the cold floor. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, I—”

“No, no, I thought it was cute.” Victor’s smile comes back and stays on his face, despite being small and tentative. “Please, continue.”

“I just…” Yuuri bites his lip, finally looking down, staring at their feet. “I’m not good with people, especially strangers. Especially someone that I… I respect suddenly showing up at my doorstep with…” With so many things Yuuri wants _desperately_ but can’t have. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. I know that doesn’t matter to a lot of people, I have friends who get along with anyone who breathes. But I’m… not like that. Not at all.”

Victor’s hand shifts in Yuuri’s, once again weaving their fingers together as easily and naturally as he had the first time. Even this sort of casual touch is a _lot_ for Yuuri. And earlier, Victor’s touch _was_ too much, too aggressive and predatory.

But with Victor like this, it’s okay. It’s nice, even. His fingers are warm and loose wrapped around Yuuri’s, easy to pull away if either of them wanted to.

“Then I’d like to get to know you, Yuuri.” Victor’s voice lowers, but it’s not the seductive purr he’d had earlier when he said similar words. It’s almost hesitant, tentative, a question without a question mark.

“I think I’d like that, too.” Yuuri looks back up and finds that there’s a real, happy smile on Victor’s lips, and Yuuri can’t help but echo it. This day has been such an insane roller coaster that none of it feels real except for this moment now. The air in the kitchen has a slight chill to it, but around them is the warmth that their heartbeats spread, Victor’s skin soft against Yuuri’s palm, his eyes so, so blue as they meet Yuuri’s and draw him in.

“Yuuri.” Victor hesitates, starting and stopping again a few times before continuing. “I just want to… I’m sure that you feel—”

“The food!” Yuuri squeaks, pulling away and yanking the wok from the burner even though from the smell it’s half-burnt already. Yuuri mutters a curse under his voice, poking at what remains to find a thick layer of black underneath.

And Victor laughs behind him, something deep and from his chest and that continues until Yuuri can’t help but find it contagious, chuckling himself.

“What’s so funny?” Yuuri asks as Victor gets ahold of himself, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Nothing, nothing.” Victor waves a hand. “Well, is any of it salvageable?”

“Yeah.” Yuuri turns away, grabbing a pair of bowls and handing one to Victor. “Just enough.”

Victor smiles so wide and so bright that it’s more blinding than the lights were when Yuuri walked into the kitchen and Yuuri has to look away, making quick work of serving himself and then lifting himself up to sit on the counter.

Victor follows, sitting back down on his stool while Makka settles between them hoping for scraps—that they both inevitably give—and it’s odd being taller than Victor like this when he’s always seemed so much larger than Yuuri in every way.

Conversation isn’t exactly _easy_ as they eat, and Yuuri ends up talking about the weather despite trying to avoid painful small talk, but it isn’t bad. The food isn’t _terrible_ even with the char. Not to mention, Yuuri doesn’t feel like running away the same way he did all that day. He still fumbles over himself and wishes the floor would eat him alive at times, but Victor keeps his distance with Makka between them, and… and he smiles a lot more than earlier.

No, that’s a lie. Victor’s been smiling all day. But now he’s smiling _differently_.

And Yuuri likes it. In fact, it makes Yuuri smile too, despite the nerves and the magic crackling under his skin. He can’t stop smiling, even after they’ve finished their food and left the poor pan to soak in the sink.

As he falls asleep, Yuuri realizes that maybe, for the first time in a long time, he’s just a little happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress? Maybe?? Perhaps??? :O
> 
> I have just about negative braincells with the things going on on my end (one of them being chronic exhaustion as a symptom of something that will hopefully possibly be diagnosed, hence me not being around much other than to post), but thank you so, so much to everyone taking to time to read--and many cookies and praise to those taking the time to comment--while the world is a crazy mess <3 <3 <3 
> 
> And thank you to Rae and Dachi, who helped keep this story alive and encouraged me along the way <3 <3 <3


	9. Ninth

Yuuri wakes up absolutely convinced that the previous night had to have been a dream. Victor Nikiforov would never be in Hasetsu, in the first place. It’s something he thought about a lot when he was a kid, of course, so maybe that’s how it would come up in a dream. Victor definitely wouldn’t offer to partner with the likes of Yuuri even if it were a year ago and Yuuri wasn’t so broken that he’d shatter Victor with a bond, too. They barely exist in the same world, much less compete in the same bracket. And Victor doing something even _close_ to flirting with Yuuri? That’s just ridiculous.

Though, weirdly, the hardest thing for him to wrap his mind around is sitting in his family’s kitchen holding hands and sharing quiet words with Victor Nikiforov of all people. It’s too… too intimate. Too unreasonable.

He’s frustrated about his life and now he’s instead projecting his lifelong idol into everything in the weirdest way possible. That would absolutely make the most sense.

But his clothes still smell slightly like charred food, and when he wanders downstairs, there’s a burnt wok in the sink that Mari forces him to scrub clean before he’s allowed to sit down and eat breakfast because she doesn’t care how late it was, you _never_ leave a mess in the kitchen.

He slept in after getting to bed so late, and by the time he sits down with breakfast, it’s probably closer to noon. Brunch, then. At least it’s quiet and he can enjoy his food in peace. He’ll worry about the whole mess that is his life _after_ he has something in his stomach.

Or that was the plan, at least.

He only gets a few bites in before he’s tackled from the side, knocking the breath right out of him and the glasses off of his face before there’s a warm, wet tongue licking every inch of skin Yuuri has exposed.

“Makka!” A voice scolds, giving Yuuri a reprieve as the giant, brown lump of dog retreats from his chest and he sucks in a few, deep breaths.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve never seen Makkachin like this with someone right after meeting them. She’s such a cautious dog with people! Maybe it’s because your familiar form seems rather canine? Either way, I’m very sorry, I’ll try to watch her better.”

Yuuri blinks the world back into focus, and even with the details a little blurred without his glasses on, it’s pretty obvious _exactly_ who’s kneeling next to Yuuri’s prone form, holding out what looks to be his glasses.

Well, it looks like nothing from yesterday was a dream and Yuuri has to deal with the reality of it while his brain is still trying to make sense of the world. Sure. This is fine.

He grabs at his glasses as he sits up, accidentally patting Victor’s arm and then his wrist before he manages to pick them up and shove them on his face. “S’fine.”

Victor smiles and… and backs away? He gets up and moves to the other side of the table, which is odd after _everything_ yesterday. He doesn’t look angry or upset or anything, though. “Did you just wake up?”

Yuuri squints at Victor as he takes another bite of food. He’s in regular clothes today, jeans and a t-shirt, hair styled, and those bags under his eyes still half-hidden in a valiant attempt of some excellent make-up skills, but still too obvious for Yuuri’s eyes.

“I’ve been up for a bit,” Yuuri mumbles and takes another bite as Makka curls up at his side, head in his lap while her tail wags lazily across the floor

Victor’s grin only grows. “Not a morning person, then? Or, well, almost an afternoon person, now.”

Yuuri could mention that they were up late, and it’s not like he had an alarm set or any plans for today. But instead, he just grunts and shoves another bite of food into his face.

“You’re so _cute_ in the morning, Yuuri!”

Now _that_ makes Yuuri splutter for a bit, trying to find a response or a retort, but his brain comes up with absolutely nothing.

So he does the only reasonable thing he can: eat more food so his mouth is full and he can’t say anything at all.

Victor laughs, the sound distracting Yuuri for a few seconds before he flushes and focuses on his food again. “So, what are we going to see today, _Yuu_ ri?”

“Wha?” Yuuri manages around a mouthful of food.

“Sightseeing! You promised me last night, Yuuri.” Victor pouts out a lip, glancing up at Yuuri through his eyelashes. “Unless you’d rather not?”

Ah, there’s the ridiculous Victor that he hadn’t seen last night. It’s strange how many sides he has—but then again, he’s a person just like Yuuri is. He has as many dimensions as anybody else does beneath that smile that stretches his lips but goes no farther on his face.

“I don’t mind.” Yuuri pushes up his glasses to rub at his eyes, then moves onto a stretch that drags up his shirt and makes him tremble. “What do you want to do?”

“Um,” Victor squeaks, and Yuuri glances at him to find a slight pink blush across his nose. Huh. “I’d like to do—I mean, I’d like to _go to_ where you’ve spent the most time in this town! How did a younger Yuuri spend his time? Where do you haunt now?”

“It’s boring,” Yuuri warns, but he supposes he _himself_ is boring and yet Victor’s still here…

“I’ll judge that for myself.” Victor throws Yuuri a wink, and Yuuri nearly chokes on his breakfast.

Victor Nikiforov _winked at him_.

And it isn’t even the first time this has happened?

How did Yuuri even survive yesterday? Because he’s absolutely not going to survive today.

He somehow manages to finish breakfast even with Victor’s attempts on his life, trying to spend a lot of his time focusing on Makkachin—which she is most definitely not opposed to.

But he runs out of food eventually, and has no excuse but to get to his feet, bundle up in his winter clothes, and head out of the house with Victor.

It’s above freezing today and the sun is shining, slowly melting the snow and making everything bright and slick. Yuuri ducks deeper into his scarf, but Victor seems to be fine with his jacket open, hair fluttering around his face in the light breeze.

Yuuri’s seen a lot of Victor’s photoshoots, probably _all_ of them if he’s being honest, but… he finds he likes the real Victor better. He likes all the ways that Victor smiles, and the way his eyes are so, so bright in the light of the sun. He likes that Victor’s a little pale as opposed to his photoshopped self because of _course_ he is. He lives in Russia and spends most of his time indoors, training.

Yuuri’s not entirely sure how he feels about Victor as a whole, and it doesn’t help that his feelings seem to rapidly cycle from moment to moment. But right now, staring up at him makes something light and warm settle into Yuuri’s chest and he can _almost_ forget that he’s such an unstable mess.

He doesn’t know how long his idol is staying here in Hasetsu, but he might as well enjoy it while he does.

“ _Yuuri_.” Victor grins down at Yuuri, his hair a halo of silver around his head in the afternoon sun. “You’re staring.”

“What?” Yuuri blurts before the words catch up with him and he squeaks, ducking his head back into his scarf and pulling it up to try and hide the furious blush spreading across his face. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

He didn’t even realize he _was_. He really didn’t sleep much, huh? Then again, it’s Victor’s fault for being so pretty. He’s never told anyone, but the posters that he’s had up on his walls his whole life have always felt like art; precious and beyond value and untouchable, unknowable.

Except… maybe Yuuri can know Victor?

There’s a light brush of fingers on the hand that’s clutching his scarf still, trying to hide. Yuuri looks up as Victor pulls away, standing so far away and yet so close that Yuuri can barely comprehend it.

There’s a gentle smile across Victor’s face. “I don’t mind if you stare.”

“But it— It’s inappropriate.” And it’s not something Yuuri _wants_ to do. Victor’s lived most of his life in the eyes of strangers, it’s intrusive and weird for Yuuri to do it, too.

Victor shrugs. “I still don’t mind.”

“I… really?” Yuuri lets his scarf fall so he can frown up at Victor. “But everyone stares at you, all the time. Aren’t you sick of it?” It’s not like Yuuri wouldn’t know; he’s been a set of eyes that sought out Victor at every opportunity. He knew that Victor was a person like him, that he was a mageia mage and trained and worked hard just like everyone else. But he was just someone that Yuuri heard about and chased after, a hint of movement at the corner of Yuuri’s vision that he can never see fully.

But now Victor’s standing right in front of Yuuri, he’s starting to understand that what he was chasing was just a shadow of the real thing. The real thing isn’t a phantom, or anything to chase. Just a human being.

Victor stares back at Yuuri for a long moment, as if choosing his words. “What were you thinking of, when you were looking at me?

Yuuri stiffens, glancing away as his flush comes back with a vengeance. He was thinking about how pretty Victor was, what a _shallow_ thought. And telling that to Victor? No, he won’t. “I-I don’t want to, um… It’s embarrassing?”

“Wow!” Victor raises his hand as if covering his mouth in shock, but Yuuri can see the grin in his eyes. “Were you having dirty thoughts? _Yuuri_.”

“No!” Yuuri waves his hands and shakes his head, denying in any way he can. Okay, maybe there _are_ worse things than Yuuri admiring Victor, and Yuuri will _not_ let Victor think he’s some pervert. “No, I was thinking about how you’re _you_ , but also you’re different. I— You _know_ I’m a fan, but it’s almost like you’re more real being here in Hasetsu. Like your smile is brighter, and your hair looks softer, and that you breathe and eat just like the rest of us. But you’re still Victor Nikiforov, you know? You’re talented and… and _so much_. Untouchable. But you’re here, with me, and I’m just…”

Yuuri’s just Yuuri. That’s all he’s ever been. He can’t be an anchor to stop the passing star that is Victor, and he’s not sure that he _wants_ to stop Victor. Because the longer that Victor is here, with Yuuri, the more flaws that he’ll see. At least this way, when Victor ends his vacation in Hasetsu, he might remember Yuuri fondly.

“And?” Victor tilts his head. “You’re just Yuuri, and I’m just Victor. And you can touch me if you want to.” Victor holds out his hand, the movement jarring Yuuri.

There are a lot of reasons why Yuuri shouldn’t take Victor’s hand. The most practical one being that it’s cold, and Yuuri doesn’t have gloves, and Victor has those long sort of fingers that never get warm in this weather so Yuuri will freeze, too. The most sensible reason being that Yuuri will be _holding hands_ with _Victor Nikiforov_ in _public_. The reason that scares him the most, though, is that he knows he’ll like it.

Yuuri takes Victor’s hand anyway.

Victor swings their hands between them as they keep walking along, Makkachin trotting around them and sticking her nose into everything and anything she possibly can. It probably smells different than anything in Russia, though Yuuri supposes he wouldn’t know—

Wait. Yuuri _could_ know if he wanted to. He has a predator nose that is definitely more sensitive than his regular one. That… That’s so weird. That’s weirder than Victor coming to Hasetsu. He’s always understood that people who shift fully have different senses sometimes, but it was never meant to happen to _him_. This kind of thing happens so rarely to anyone, fully shifting isn’t unheard of but…

“Now what are you thinking about?” Victor interrupts Yuuri’s spiraling thoughts, making him blink back to the present.

“Oh, um.” Yuuri glances around. No _way_ is he talking about what he was actually thinking—but luckily they’ve just arrived at a distraction. “We’re here!”

Victor freezes, gaze locked on the large, hulking building just up the hill.

The Ice Castle.

Ah. This was a mistake. “See, I said it would be boring. We can, um… Go to the beach! Or maybe get some ramen. Have you had real ramen before, and not just the stuff they serve in instant noodle cups? It’s a lot different, I think you’ll—”

Victor squeezes Yuuri’s hand, giving such a small smile that Yuuri can’t even begin the emotion behind it. “I suppose it makes sense that this is where you spent most of your childhood.”

“I mean, yeah. I trained a lot. But it’s boring! Not like the state of the art facilities I’m sure you have in Russia. Besides, my friends run the place and they’re sure to recognize you.” And Yuuri’s running out of things to say and _why_ can’t he just shut up?

Victor’s face lights up, whatever has frozen him instantly melting. “Your friends?”

“Y-yeah. The Nishigoris were my best friends growing up, we used to practice here together—though Takeshi was more into magic sports than performance. But Yuuko and I competed in juniors together, and now she and Takeshi have triplets, and… We really don’t have to go in,” Yuuri finishes lamely, shoulders falling.

“ _Wow_! Triplets? They have to be a handful.”

Yuuri scowls. “Yeah, they’re the ones who secretly recorded and uploaded my horrible performance of Stammi Vicino.”

Victor’s smile slips off his face. “You didn’t mean to upload it?”

Yuuri snorts. “Of _course_ I didn’t mean to butcher your routine and then shove it in your face.”

Victor’s lips press together. “You didn’t butcher it. It was better than my original.”

“ _What_?” Yuuri splutters for a moment, rage burning through his bones. How _dare_ he insult himself? “Stammi Vicino is a _masterpiece_ , it’s beat every single record ever set for a solo spiritual mageia performance. It’s precise, it’s pristine, it’s _beautiful_ and—”

“And it has no soul,” Victor snaps, voice colder than Yuuri’s ever heard it. It stomps down on any anger lingering in Yuuri, extinguishing it in a second. “It’s a perfect program, and that’s why it’s flawed. I performed it with no soul. Ironic, isn’t it? A spiritual mage lacking any sort of spirit.”

And Yuuri can’t exactly argue with that. It was beautiful and stunning, but he only ever _felt_ the program when he adapted it and performed it himself. Yuuri hadn’t really _felt_ the longing and aching that the lyrics call for never until he stepped into the lyrics and magic of it himself. It was aching, and intimate, and…

Victor played the part. He did it beautifully. But it was _too_ perfect.

“If you knew what was wrong, why didn’t you fix it?” Yuuri winces after the words leave his mouth, his thoughts catching up with him. That’s _rude_ , and wasn’t he the one who said it was an amazing performance? Even if it is lacking “soul,” he doubts any performance will ever top it.

“I didn’t feel. I didn’t _care_. About mageia, about anything. I couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.” Victor’s hand is tight around Yuuri’s—Yuuri had almost forgotten that they were still linked together until it started hurting. “I was going to retire after this season.”

“You… what?” Yuuri breathes. Mageia can be incredibly taxing on people, working the body and the soul to the limits of what it can handle for years. But Victor’s still young, and still sweeping golds at any competition that he graces, with any partner that he chooses. There hasn’t even been a _hint_ of retirement in the rumors Yuuri had seen going around. Only speculations on the next season, on his next big move.

“I haven’t made my decision yet. I was hoping… Well, it doesn’t matter. Besides, you can’t judge me for it.” Victor stiffens, chin raising just a bit. “You retired, too.”

“I was _forced_ to retire!” Yuuri blurts, something sharp and cold poking at his chest. “I didn’t have a _choice_. Even if my performance of Stammi Vicino was okay, and I _know_ it’s not, it’s not like I can compete like that. I’ve tried _everything_ that I can.”

“But…” Victor swallows. “Bonding, it—”

“It’s not worth the risk.” Yuuri pulls his hand away, folding his arms in front of his chest. “I… I thought I already told you no.”

Victor stares at his hand for a long moment, the breeze ruffling his fringe and hiding half his face from view. But what Yuuri can see, he doesn’t know what to make of it. His lips are pressed together, but his eyes are bright, like he’s about to…

 _Why_ is Victor pushing this? It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid. It’s—

One hell of a way to go down in flames if you’re going to retire.

Yuuri sucks in a quiet breath. Bonding with Yuuri could go two ways.

The first, it magically fixes him—which is highly doubtable. They’d have to be _insanely_ compatible and their bond would be unstable for a while. If their bond was strong—highly doubtable, considering Yuuri’s bonds are always limp, loose things—they wouldn’t be able to separate for months to not make it worse. They’d need to let the emotions and magic settle, or else they would both staring and break under the pressure of it. If it worked, it would certainly surprise audiences, and the entire world knows that Victor _loves_ surprises.

But the second, more likely option is that it breaks Victor. It either makes it so he can’t cast magic at all, or—more likel— it turns him into a mess of feather and wings like Yuuri is.

And it takes the decision to retire out of Victor’s own hands.

Yuuri gets it. Stepping up and telling everyone that he was giving up, throwing in the towel and never coming back, was hard enough even when he had no other choice.

Maybe Victor feels like he has no other choice _but_ to compete. Maybe he’s cornered, and desperate, and Yuuri’s his way out.

But Yuuri can’t let that happen. Breaking himself isn’t the answer, no matter what he’s looking for.

“I understand,” Victor curls his hand into a fist and lets it drop to his side. “I won’t bring it up again.”

Yuuri’s hand shakes when he reaches forward. “Victor, I—”

“Yuuri, what are you—“ There’s a loud gasp from above them, and Yuuri glances around to find Yuuko standing at the top of the staircase to the Ice Castle.

Victor turns from Yuuri, smiling up at Yuuko with more of a stretch of his lips than a smile. “Hi! I’m Victor Nikiforov!”

“ _What_?” Yuuko squeaks, covering her mouth as more high-pitched babbling whimpers behind her hands.

And Victor starts up the stairs, and away from Yuuri.

Everything makes too much sense now. How desperate Victor is, using anything and everything he can to convince Yuuri to get close to him. How muted he had been last night, how raw he is when his guard comes down. Victor’s determined to see this through.

And Yuuri…

Yuuri doesn’t know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR THEY WILL WORK THIS OUT! And let me tell you!!! I wrote this chapter expecting to write a sweet little not-date and then the dorks did this to me!!!! I didn't want this!!!!! *distant yodeling*
> 
> Anyway! Not much change on my side of the screen, just trying to scrape by and acquire some form of spoons. I hope 2020 (or whenever you're reading this) isn't being too rough on you <3
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone still hanging around to read my pet project fic!!! <3 And as always, Rae and Dachi are lifesavers, bless


	10. Tenth

Yuuri loves the Nishigoris—even when the triplets are annoying, and yes, even after they uploaded that video—and he considers them like family.

But right now he just wishes they would _go away_.

Predictably, they all fawn over and freak out about Victor being here. He gets the grand tour while the triplets take no less than a thousand selfies with him, though there really isn’t too much to show Victor. There’s the small gym that was built on, the locker rooms, a few other places, all equally boring. Makkachin hops around them all and sniffs everything, and when the triplets aren’t hounding Victor, they pose with her and she patiently sits and wags her tail all the while.

Victor takes it all graciously, the smile never fading off his face as he answers every question and indulges their whims. It seems like he’s having a great time. And maybe he is.

Except he doesn’t say a word to Yuuri. He doesn’t even _look_ at Yuuri.

And a part of Yuuri wants to apologize, but it’s not like he’s just going to let Victor bond with him. Though if Yuuri doesn’t talk Victor out of this, he’ll probably find some other poor soul to rope into a bond, someone less stubborn than Yuuri.

But Yuuri isn’t good with words on his best day, much less when the magic in him is shaking and twitching, stirring into a storm that might decide to strike at any moment. He had been feeling better today, but of _course_ when he needs to concentrate he _can’t_. Of course his body betrays him at every given opportunity.

“You’re quiet.” Yuuko bumps her shoulder against Yuuri’s as the triplets swarm Victor despite Takeshi’s best efforts, Makkachin prancing around the lot of them.

“I… yeah.” Yuuri clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from Victor to find Yuuko giving him a knowing sort of smirk.

“So… you and Victor, huh?” She raises her eyebrows. “No wonder you’ve been so sad.”

“Me and… what do you mean?” Yuuri blinks at her.

“Oh.” Her face falls. “You guys aren’t together?”

Yuuri stares for another moment before his face _burns_. “Y-you mean romantically?”

Yuuko rolls her eyes. “What else would I mean?”

“W-well… He came here to bond with me and be my partner for a duet this year, so I mean—”

Yuuko grabs his shoulder. “The rumors are _true_?”

Yuuri hesitates, but then nods. “I guess? I mean, that’s what he _says_ , but…”

“But it doesn’t make sense.” Yuuko glances back toward Victor, giving a soft laugh as the triplets try to climb their father.

Yuuri lets out a breath, his shoulders falling a little. It’s hard not to think that he’s going crazy with how _convinced_ Victor is that bonding is the right course of action. He knows he shouldn’t do it, Minako was on his side yesterday, and Yuuko is as well. It’s nice to know he’s not alone in this, even if disagreeing with Victor Nikiforov is the last thing that he wants to do.

“I’m sorry.” Yuuko’s voice is so quiet that Yuuri almost misses her words.

Yuuri frowns at her. “For what?”

She frowns at him, like he should automatically know even though she hasn’t done a single thing wrong. “Because I grew up with you, Yuuri. We used to talk about this happening all the time, it was our wildest dream. Our first big fight was arguing over which of us Victor Nikiforov would leave his current partner for the moment we met him.”

Yuuri’s lips twitch up into a grin. “You won that argument.”

Yuuko laughs softly. “I might have won the argument _then_ , but you proved me wrong _now_. I can see him in front of me , but it’s still hard to wrap my mind around _Victor_ in _Hasetsu_. I can only imagine how hard it is for you, considering he came here _just_ to get you to be his partner. Except…”

“Except I can’t have it.” Yuuri looks down, tracing the lines of the tiled floor with his eyes. “I know.”

She squeezes his shoulder before letting it go, knowing his boundaries better than anyone. “If we can do anything to help, let us know, okay?”

Yuuri tries to smile, but he’s not sure how it looks on his face. “Yeah, I will.”

Though they both know that won’t happen. Not because Yuuri wouldn’t ask—though he’s not exactly the best at asking for help in the first place—but because there isn’t anything _to_ do. Or if there is, there’s no way that Yuuri’s going to be able to figure it out.

“I never thought I’d get to meet him,” Yuuko muses, a small smile on her face.

And Yuuri understands. He remembers how long Yuuko went back and forth on whether or not she wanted to let her dreams go and stop competing. Yuuri tried to encourage her to keep going; she’s always been beautiful, especially while weaving earth around her, creating intricate structures and sets for her performances.

It broke Yuuri a little when she finally announced she was just going to retire and help her family run the Ice Castle. Yuuri couldn’t imagine a world where either of them wouldn’t be shaping magic in the same competitions, battling it out to be the best and loving the challenge along the way. They would have been partners if their magics had been opposed.

But they weren’t.

And Yuuri had to learn to stand on his own while competing.

He’d like to say he was strong and never resented Yuuko for it, but he’s always been a weak person. His brain betrays him at every given opportunity, and this is no different. He got over it, and it took time, but he only really _understood_ her choice when the triplets were born and he saw the smile on her face.

Yuuko had never smiled like that before in her life.

The world doesn’t have to revolve around mageia for everyone, Yuuri’s always understood that. His parents run themselves ragged keeping the onsen going despite the fact that it would be easier and probably cheaper to quit and get employment elsewhere. Mari had taken dance lessons and magic lessons with Yuuri as kids and hardly cared for either at all. Hell, Minako loves magic and performance and chose a different path that practically runs alongside mageia, but isn’t quite the same.

But Yuuri can’t see anyone who loves the sport, who loves the challenge that it presents to your magic and your body, just leaving it.

Except Yuuko did.

Except Victor wants to.

When he was younger, things were so much simpler. If Victor came to Hasetsu, it would be so that he would pair up with Yuuko and Yuuri and conquer the mageia world. It seemed like it was almost an inevitable reality, back then. Nothing simpler. Little did Yuuri know that had so much to learn ahead of him.

It seems like there’s still a lot left to learn.

“All right, we’ll stop hovering around you two.” Yuuko gives him a smile and Yuuri flushes a bit.

He really just let that awkward silence stretch on, didn’t he?

“You don’t have to go.” Honestly, Yuuri’s not sure he’s ready to be left alone with Victor. He doesn’t know how to handle himself, much less whatever Victor’s going through. “Victor looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

Yuuko smiles as she watches the triplets ordering Victor into poses while they take pictures and record every single second of it. And, well, it isn’t _totally_ a lie. Victor’s smiling and laughing.

But something about the set of his face doesn’t say “happy” to Yuuri.

“You’ll be fine without us.” Yuuko, as always, sees Yuuri clearer than he sees himself. Then again, it seems like most people do. “Okay, guys! Takeshi, it’s time for you to take the triplets home and start getting dinner ready.”

“Oh.” Takeshi tears his eyes away from the chaos to take out his phone, checking the time and letting out a quiet curse. The girls somehow pick up on it even with their ruckus and start scolding him and shrieking, Makkachin even barking a couple of times before Takeshi hushes them. “I didn’t realize the time, sorry.”

“We’ve been a _little_ distracted.” Yuuko smiles at Victor like she still can’t quite believe that he’s standing there. Yuuri can relate to that. “It’s all right.”

It isn’t that simple to get the girls out and away from Victor, but between the four adults they manage to wrangle the kids out of the building. It helps when Victor promises to visit again, but… will he? Has Yuuri scared him off, or is he going to keep trying to bond with Yuuri?

Yuuri’s not sure which option that he prefers.

“Well, are you going to check out the arena?” Yuuko smiles at them before heading back behind the counter.

“But we… Oh.” They explored the entirety of the Ice Castle, _except the arena_. Yuuri hesitates, then turns to Victor. “Do you want to?”

Victor looks at Yuuri for a moment while he tries desperately not to fidget, and finally gives a nod. “Sure. You did bring me here to show it to me.”

Well, Yuuri did. It’s something that Yuuri meant to share with Victor on purpose, unlike the video.

Yuuri can’t hold back his wince, but he nods, walking toward the doors at the far end of the room.

“We have a novice class coming in, but not for a couple of hours, so take your time!” Yuuko calls after them as Yuuri opens the door to lets Victor and Makka walk in ahead of him.

Yuuri hasn’t really paid too much attention to the arena in a long time, something that just _was_ for him, but now that he actually looks… Anyone could tell that it’s old. The few metal bleachers that managed to survive the years of remodeling are peeling paint and have a little bit of rust along the floor. The windows along the far side of the arena have smudges and spots on them, which makes sense since the Nishigoris haven’t cleaned them with the snowstorm, probably. The paint on the walls is a little faded from where the sun can hit it, and Yuuri’s pretty sure he sees cobwebs up in the rafters.

At least the arena itself looks all right. It’s clean, the smooth earth of its floor spotless and completely different than how Yuuri left it last time he saw it; like himself, cracked and frayed and broken. Underneath the ground there’s water flowing, enough for a physical mage to do whatever they want with. Years ago, before Yuuri’s time, it used to be that all four elements were displayed within the arena, but it gave the mage less room to work. Hasetsu had taken a while to update, but it was state of art when it did—and luckily nothing much has changed since then.

Though it can’t be anything compared to the facilities in Saint Petersburg.

Makka takes off around the boards, presumably to take a lap around the whole arena— _how_ a fifteen-year-old dog has that much energy, Yuuri will never know—and Victor walks up to boards, pressing his hands on the top of them.

Victor could walk into the arena, the magical barrier is only physical enough to keep magic and magically moved objects inside of it. He just wouldn’t be able to access the magic within the arena without making a contract and signing some paperwork.

Yuuri wonders if his own original paperwork is still buried in the records here, made before most of the files were digitized. How different his handwriting must have been as a small child, the paper yellowed and stiff by now. He remembered feeling so adult, helping out with what his mother had mostly filled out. Now he fills out forms and makes contracts with arenas like it means nothing to him.

Or, well, he _used_ to. He might be more stable in bonding with things like barriers as opposed to living, breathing people who could shift and move with his spiking, erratic magic, but he’s hardly in a safe place to try and create a new connection.

He expects Victor to say or do something, but he doesn’t. He just leans against the boards and stares, so still that Yuuri would wonder if time were frozen, except that Makka comes back around to them and leaps up on Yuuri, almost knocking him over.

He lets out a quiet chuckle giving her a good scratch before lifting her paws from his chest, and then giving her another pat for good measure. Then he takes a deep breath and walks up next to Victor, though he leaves a good amount of space between them.

“Do you want to go in?” Yuuri offers, his voice trembling slightly. “Maybe practice a bit? I can help you with the contract, I know Yuuko wouldn’t mind if you filled out the paperwork later.” If anything, Yuuko will just be thrilled to have Victor’s signature no matter when they get it.

Victor purses his lips and doesn’t look at Yuuri. “I’d rather not.”

Yuuri blinks up at him. “Then why did you want to come in here?” He knows Victor’s considering retiring, so if he didn’t want to see the arena at all, then that would make sense. But…

“I wanted to see where you grew up, of course!” There’s a smile across Victor’s face, but it doesn’t look cheerful. “I wanted to know where you grew into the performer you are today.”

Who Yuuri is today? A broken shamble of a human being? Or the performer he was before? A mage that got _one_ piece of bad news and crashed and burned so hard that he’ll never recover from it? Or maybe he’s talking about further back, when Yuuri was a mediocre mage with horrible anxiety who could barely perform on his own, much less with a partner.

But Yuuri bites back his retort. Yuuko wouldn’t want to hear it. Minako would send him to do so many drills that his body would be sore for _days_. And Victor… well, he’s not sure which parts of Victor’s story are true or false, yet.

So Yuuri does something he’s way too good at; he redirects. “Th-that’s not fair, then. You get to see where I grew up, but I see nothing about you.”

“But _Yuuri_.” He finally turns to Yuuri and his smile is a sharp, prickly thing. “You forget that I saw all those posters in your room. Surely you know where I grew up?”

Yuuri considers dying on the spot. It seems like a much better alternative than this. However, spontaneous combustion would be a giant mess for Yuuko to clean up all on her own.

Besides, Yuuri recognizes a challenge when he sees one. Victor may be _Victor Nikiforov_ , but Yuuri’s not one to stand down even if the odds are stacked against him. “I know _where_ you grew up, but I don’t know what it was like. I don’t know how you feel about it. And you already know how I feel about… a lot.”

A grimace spreads across Victor’s face, but disappears so quickly that Yuuri wonders if he somehow imagined it. “I do. You’ve made a lot of things exceptionally clear.”

Victor looks back out at the arena again, his grip on the boards so tight that his knuckles are white.

Yuuri looks away, giving him the time and space to think. Maybe it’s too much of Yuuri to ask, but didn’t Victor offer this last night? If he wants Yuuri to get to know him, he has to let Yuuri _see_ him.

And Yuuri gets it. It’s easier to wrap yourself up behind walls and gates so old and rusted that even _you_ don’t know how to open them up anymore. Yuuri might be doing that to himself right now, if he’s being honest.

Maybe he’s more hypocritical than he’d like to admit.

“I grew up in a small town,” Victor murmurs, his voice so soft it takes Yuuri a second to make out his words. “It was far from Saint Petersburg. Very far.”

Of course Yuuri knows this much—but he’s never heard it from Victor’s lips, just his Wikipedia page. Yuuri’s eyes flick back toward Victor and stay there, unable to look away. Victor’s face is set, the line of his mouth thin, brow furrowed. The determination he wears as he’s about to step into an arena, the focus he needs to be the best of the best.

“We didn’t have an arena, as you can guess. We didn’t have very much at all. I barely knew my parents when I was young. I spent my afternoons after school with my grandmother. I tried to go out and play, as any child does, but my parents would scold me when they saw me, asking me why I wasn’t studying.”

Victor smiles but it’s distorted, masking something less pleasant. “My grandmother wanted me to have fun, at least. She gifted me my very first pair of dance shoes, ones that she had worn when she was just a girl. They were beaten and battered, but they were enough for me to learn. She took me out to a clearing in the woods behind the house, where no one could hear or see the little magic we could do outside of an arena. She had never gone too far beyond the basics herself, but we would huddle in front of the TV and watch every performance and mageia competition we could, and then she’d take her cane and I’d help her hobble out to the clearing, and we’d make up our own dreams and stories. And then…”

Victor trails off, almost completely still—but not quite. His eyes flick around the arena as if desperately searching, lacking anything to latch on to.

“And then?” Yuuri prompts, barely a whisper.

“And then she died.” Victor’s eyes widen as he says the words, like they weren’t supposed to come out of his mouth. He quickly covers it with a smile, though. “And then Yakov found me, and you know the rest. Shouldn’t we be heading back?”

Victor doesn’t wait for Yuuri to reply before he turns and practically flees the arena, leaving Yuuri to chase after him, just like he’s done his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sorry for the belated posting!!! [I suddenly acquired a second, very young doggo](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1312836413109481483), all of my family members (including me) are having hella medical issues and there were appointments all day on top of me being the only one able to walk the dogs and the battery in our car died! It's been a time! But I have five minutes before I need to work on more training with Noona, so chapter!
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone reading, and I would lay down my life for everyone commenting--knowing that I'm doing something that other people somehow enjoy is seriously keeping me motivated to get through 2020. <3 And of course, thank you to Rae and Dachi!


	11. Eleventh

The media shows up the next day. That in itself isn’t surprising, of course. Yuuko and Minako knew about the rumors that Victor was in Japan after seeing Yuuri’s video, meaning the information had spread pretty far, pretty quick. Yuuri’s spent his whole career spending as little time as possible with the press, he can avoid a few reporters—he knows Hasetsu better than they do, after all.

What he didn’t expect was a _small army_ of people to descend upon Hasetsu and storm Yu-topia. Mari and their mom went out to open up the onsen and were instantly swarmed with questions and cameras.

Mari just about had a heart attack, but their mom at least seems pleased that they have customers—after all, they can’t just sit around a business without paying for their stay.

At least, that’s what Yuuri _hears_ goes on. He himself doesn’t leave his room.

Mari came to warn him right after, knowing that he’s avoiding the spotlight with his affliction. He knows there’s no point, that there’s a video out there showing the world _exactly_ how screwed up he is. Maybe if he were in a better place, he could face it. He could tell them that he has no comment to add to any of their questions and out-stubborn them until they grow bored and wander off to the next big story.

But he can’t stand the idea of them asking why Victor’s here, if Victor’s here, what a mage like Victor would see in a failure like Yuuri. They’d ask how he got to be like this, why he’s so broken, why he isn’t better yet. If this was why he retired, or if it’s because he’s such a terrible mage.

And even more than that, he can’t stand to hear Victor’s responses to the same questions, not after yesterday.

They’d been quiet on the walk back to the onsen, and Yuuri’d assumed something was brewing behind it. They’d get back to the onsen and Victor would ask again about bonding, or say that he’s decided to move on from Hasetsu, or get angry at Yuuri, or— _anything_.

None of that happened, though.

Victor just excused himself and walked right up to his room, leaving Makkachin whining at Yuuri’s side, and Yuuri hasn’t seen him since.

Apparently, neither has Mari.

Makkachin climbed up into Yuuri’s bed and slept with him last night, and though Makka’s loud snores and huge, sprawling body are the polar opposite to Vicchan’s sleeping whistle and tiny, curled up form, it’s nice in a way that Yuuri hasn’t experienced in five years. There’s something about having warmth and another heartbeat next to him that settles Yuuri unlike anything else. He fell asleep on Phichit in Detroit more often than he’d like to admit, though Phichit didn’t mind—he’d only tease Yuuri for it. It’s so weird, because Yuuri doesn’t seek out touch while he’s awake unless he knows someone well, but maybe Vicchan trained him to need this sort of warmth near him when he wants to relax.

Hell, Yuuri even slept deeper than he ever has after a full shift when Victor came in and just crawled into bed with him.

A vague memory pulls at his mind through a fog, of fingers stroking through his fur that day, slowly changing back to hair and skin as he settled. He’d thought it was a dream at the time, easily dismissed because Victor Nikiforov touching him fondly is a concept that has no place in reality.

But now, knowing how touchy Victor had been that day…

Yuuri runs his fingers through his hair like he remembers Victor doing, a small blush spreading across his face as Makkachin hops down from the bed with a huff—she _has_ to be hungry after spending all morning lounging with Yuuri.

Maybe Victor has a calming sort of energy. Yuuri’s mom is sort of the same way, she can bring him down when he’s about to fully shift sometimes with a touch—but it’s impractical and silly for him to just follow her around all day. And the same goes for Victor. Who knows, maybe their energies really would be strong enough to cleanse whatever chaos is going on in Yuuri’s own soul—but it’s still not worth the risk.

Though it would be nice if Yuuri could have his mom or Victor right now. He’s unsettled and unmoored, his body still while something crawls on the inside of his skin, pricking and prodding and changing him every few minutes. He’s one bad move away from a full shift, and he’d like to avoid that at all costs.

Seeking out his mom—or even Victor, though he knows better than to cross that boundary right now—means searching the onsen, and searching the onsen means running into media that will ask him questions that _will_ send him right into a panic attack. Yuuri’s never been terrified and cornered when he’s shifted, maybe he’d even lash out. He has the teeth and claws to do the damage.

Yuuri snorts. No, even if his shifted form is obviously a predator, he’d never be angry enough to attack someone blindly. When it comes to fight or flight, Yuuri has and will always be the latter.

There’s a faint knock on his door, and by the time that Yuuri sits up, the door’s already being pushed all the way open—he’d left it cracked after Mari brought him breakfast that morning, and then Makka had pushed it even wider.

He stiffens for a split second. This could be anyone. It could be—

“Oh, Mari.” Yuuri flops back down on the bed.

“Wow, I feel so warm and welcome and loved,” Mari drawls as she walks in and drops onto the bed beside Yuuri, making him bounce. “I know I’m not who you were hoping to see but you could at least _pretend_ to be happy it’s me.”

“I— That’s not it at all!” Yuuri drags up an arm, tossing it over his eyes. He knows it probably looks incredibly dramatic, but he just doesn’t want Mari to see his expression, not when it feels so raw on his face. “I’m just relieved you aren’t… someone else.”

“You mean Victor Nikiforov?”

That isn’t Mari’s voice.

Yuuri sits up straight, glancing around the room as his heart rate picks up and his one familiar ear out right now twitches around. “Phichit?”

“Hey Yuuri!” He chirps, and now that Yuuri’s listening, his voice is way, way too tinny for him to actually be here.

Mari holds up her phone to show Phichit’s beaming face as he waves at Yuuri through the screen.

Yuuri reaches out before he even thinks about it, Mari handing over her phone and letting Yuuri pull it close. “Phichit!” It’s been ages since he’s heard his best friend’s voice— _too_ long. “It’s been… It’s been a _long time_.”

Phichit arches an eyebrow. “Yeah. And whose fault is that?”

Yuuri winces. “Um. I’m sorry. It’s been… kinda crazy.”

“You don’t say.” Phichit rolls his eyes. “And I had to hear about it from social media and your sister! Oh, woe is me.”

“If you’re going to be so dramatic every damn time, maybe I’ll block your number.” Mari gives a wry smile.

Phichit gasps. “You would dare.”

They manage to glare at each other despite the distance, and Yuuri almost laughs.

Mari and Phichit became fast friends when Phichit would bust in during Yuuri’s Skype calls with his family. In fact, the whole household is rather fond of Phichit, he’s practically an adopted Katsuki. It’s hard not to be caught up in the contagious sunshine that Phichit brings with him wherever he goes. Yuuri hasn’t been able to make a really good friend since Yuuko and Takeshi and for years all that tied them together was magic and the sports they practiced.

But Phichit wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Yuuri’s never been so glad to have been dragged out and made to be social.

Not that he was really _happy_ about it, it’s just the happiest that socializing’s ever made him.

“Okay, fine, I’ll let it slide on one condition. Wait, _two_.” Phichit holds up two fingers. “One, you turn on your damn phone and text me after this. Remember I’m in Thailand now, and if I have to hike and swim my way over to Japan, you know I will.”

From anyone else, Yuuri would take that as a joke.

From Phichit, Yuuri takes it as a threat.

“I swear. Pinky promise. I’ll charge my phone and turn it on.” Even if the thought fills him with deep, curdling dread. He’s avoided life for long enough he can’t imagine going back to it. And though he doesn’t _want_ to face the world again, the promise he made Minako lingers in the back of his mind.

He’s going to have to face mageia again one way or another.

“And second.” Phichit leans close to the camera, a terrifying image and probably done on purpose by the selfie king himself. “Pardon my French but _spill whatever the fuck is going on with Victor Nikiforov_.”

Yuuri takes in a long breath and lets it out. He could just gloss over what he _thinks_ is going on and tell them the facts. That’s what he wants to do. He wants to clutch this information about Victor tight to his chest, hold onto whatever scraps of him will be left when he inevitably leaves to continue on his life while Yuuri stands in Hasetsu and lets his roots grow deep into the soil beneath his feet, revert from Japan’s Ace to the Katsuki boy that haunts the onsen.

But… he wants to help Victor, too. As much as he wants to hold onto everything that only he’s seen, Yuuri needs to try and help Victor, and he’s not coming up with anything on his own.

Sometimes he wishes he were better at opening up, but the sharp tears and jagged edges of exposing himself is too much sometimes.

Today he has to overcome it.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “Well, he barged into the onsen and announced that he saw my video and wanted to be my partner for this coming season of mageia.”

Phichit’s mouth drops and his eyes nearly pop from his head.

Mari’s brow furrows. “Don’t you need to form a bond for that?”

Yuuri winces. “Yeah. And I’m…”

“You’re going through a rough patch, don’t you dare start with that crap again,” Phichit scolds, pointing a finger at the camera.

Yuuri gives a smile, even if it feels like the motion is lifting a boulder. Phichit’s enthusiasm is nice, but he doesn’t really get how it feels to be broken and unsure if you’ll ever be able to be even somewhat like normal again. There are no treatments for Yuuri, there are no answers. This “rough patch” might last his entire life.

But correcting Phichit just ends with them both being sad and miserable, so Yuuri shifts the conversation.

“All I know is that if I bond with Victor, chances are that he’ll end up like me and it’ll destroy his career.” And that in turn would destroy Yuuri, but he knows that both of them know that much without saying it. Victor’s posters are still up on his wall, and they’ve both seen him obsessively watch every single performance Victor’s ever given again and again.

Both Phichit and Mari frown, the expressions so similar that Yuuri almost laughs before he bites it back.

“He’s not that dumb, though,” Phichit mutters, looking offscreen as Yuuri practically sees the cogs whirring in his brain.

“But he does seem like kind of a ditz.” Mari glances down at the phone then toward Yuuri. “You’ve seen him, you know what I’m talking about. You’ve spent more time with him since he got here than anyone else.”

“Ooo!” Phichit’s brought the camera up closer again, like he could reach through the camera and take hold of Yuuri. “What have you two been up to, spending so much time together?”

“We haven’t done much at all, Phichit, he’s been here for like two or three days.” Yuuri sighs. “We made dinner together the night before last, and then I showed him the arena, and now he’s not talking to me.”

“Why?” Phichit backs away a little, thankfully not pushing on his last question. That boy _loves_ gossip. “Because you refused him?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, I refused him the first day and he was fine, I think… I must have touched on a sore spot.”

“You think you know why he’s here.” Mari sits up a little straighter, knowing Yuuri way too well for hardly having seen him in the past five years. She’s always been good at getting in and out of trouble—her familiar side comes out about as much as Yuuri’s used to, but her ears, claws, and tail always reminded him of a blonde sort of tanuki, and it kinda fits her. Mischievous, but all too knowing.

Phichit perks up. “What? Do you? _Yuuri_ , come on!”

Yuuri looks down, staring at the mess of his blankets. He’s told them this much, he really should tell them the rest. But what if he’s wrong?

What if he’s _right_?

“Victor, um… He said he was retiring.”

Phichit gasps, face going slightly ashen. Mari’s brows furrow, but she doesn’t say anything.

“When I was taking him to the arena, he said that he was considering retiring, but he hadn’t made a decision yet. Like…” Yuuri takes a shaking breath. “Like he’s waiting for…”

“For an excuse.” Mari’s gaze narrows. “Like he wants to bond with you on purpose to wreck his own magic.”

“What? _What_?” Phichit brings his hands up to his face, staring blankly ahead. “Oh my _god_.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Mari states, tone even. “I’m going to murder him and set him on the beach for the seagulls to pick clean before he washes away and is never seen again.”

“ _Mari_ ,” Yuuri hisses.

“Yeah, what if he hears you?” Phichit squeaks.

Yuuri shakes his head. “His familiar form is a bird, and birds have terrible hearing. I think? They do, right? Didn’t you show me that fact online?”

Phichit throws up his hands. “I don’t know, that was on the internet!”

“Wait, so he might be hearing _all of this_?” Oh no. No, it’s going to be _Yuuri’s_ body that Mari will have to drag out to the beach because he’s about to die of shame. If Victor heard Yuuri _gossiping_ about him, that’s it. That’s sure to be the final nail in the coffin.

Yuuri’s magic twitches and sparks under his skin, and he tries and fails to keep his breathing even.

Mari sighs, pressing a hand to her face. “He’s snuck out with Makkachin you morons.”

“Oh.” Yuuri perks up a little. “You finally saw him?”

“He tried to sneak into the kitchen to grab breakfast. And then apologized a lot when I caught him, like he isn’t our guest or whatever.” Mari rolls her eyes. “He’s really bad at sneaking, by the way.”

Yuuri can’t help but laugh a little thinking of that night in the kitchen, how Victor had sat there with wide eyes instead of running or hiding if he were _actually_ trying to sneak around. “I know.”

“Oh man, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Phichit sounds almost _serious_ for once, and that more than anything scares Yuuri.

“W-what?” Yuuri moves the phone away from him, like that’ll stop Phichit from doing whatever he’s up to.

“Katsuki Yuuri.” Phichit takes a second to look Yuuri over. “I have _never_ seen that expression on your face before. I know you’ve always had a thing for him, but now you have a _thing_.”

“I don’t even know him!” Yuuri scowls at Phichit.

Phichit raises his eyebrows. “What does that matter?”

“It matters a _lot_. To me.” Yuuri clenches his free hand into a fist as claws sprout from his hands without his permission, and he tries not to crush Mari’s phone. “I… I do like having him around, when he isn’t being so pushy. But I don’t know what kind of _thing_ that will grow into. And if he’s just here to use me…”

“That doesn’t seem like a very Victor Nikiforov thing to do.” Phichit’s frowning again, and Yuuri’s not sure he’s ever seen him frown so much in the entire time that they were in Detroit together.

Yuuri gives a half-hearted shrug. “Yeah, but how well do any of us know Victor Nikiforov?”

All of them go quiet for a long moment, and Yuuri wonders if this is a mistake. He just told a secret that Victor trusted him with to two people who may as well be strangers, all for nothing. Yuuri knows neither of them will share it—Mari has no connection to the skating world, and if it isn’t something he can post on Instagram, Phichit doesn’t care about spreading it around, anyway.

Mari sighs and looks up to the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’m suggesting this when the easier option is just to murder him and have it over and done with, but… If you’re not sure about this, about _him_ , then figure it out. Get to know him.”

Phichit gasps softly. “Mari, I love you.”

“As you’ve said,” she mutters.

Yuuri shakes slightly, hand trembling no matter how he tries to brace it. That’s what Victor wanted, wasn’t it? He wanted them to get to know each other, and then… “But, I think after yesterday, he doesn’t… I don’t think he wants to see me.”

“ _Yuuri_.” Phichit tuts. “If he didn’t want to be there for you, he would have left. He’s Victor Nikiforov. He could probably hire a private jet straight out of Hasetsu if he wanted.”

And Phichit’s right. If Victor had given up on Yuuri and Hasetsu, he could leave at any time, he could take the train to another town, book an actual hotel instead of staying in some puny business in a tiny city.

And that, somehow, is _worse_.

Because that means that Yuuri has to go out there and face Victor, and face the media. It means having thousands of anonymous eyes tear him apart for something he can’t even _control,_ to be judged for a life he would have never chosen to live. It also means having one very non-anonymous pair of eyes poke and prod at him and get to know the mess that he is, when all he wants is to be _perfect_ for those eyes.

Yuuri’s breathing picks up, and his vision blurs and—

The shift rises in him like a wave, a tsunami growing to blot out the sun and all the light.

Yuuri drops the phone onto the mattress and jumps off the bed as his clothes begin to rip and tear around his body, joints shifting, bones growing, muscle tearing and healing as fur sprouts from his skin, and his snout grows. It doesn’t hurt physically, it’s not _supposed_ to hurt. But the forced shift sears him through and through, his mind and body resisting what his magic forces as his emotions run rampant throughout him.

And… and _screw_ this.

Screw having to change like this. Screw having to constantly be afraid of everything that was once good in his life.

No, he doesn’t want to have to deal with disappointing Victor and facing the media.

But he’s _done_ hiding and playing it safe.

Mari and Phichit are talking, but Yuuri can’t focus, his mind already elsewhere.

He nudges into his closet, gently taking some clothes into his mouth, and he runs from his room and out of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, impulsive Yuuri has made an appearance ( ͡° ͜ʖ⁾⁾⁾) 
> 
> I feel like I'm always running around like a chicken with its head cut off on Wednesdays XD This time it's because of [a few situations with the doggos eating up all of my time](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1316099166578388993), but at least I was able to get this up first thing this morning!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!!! It blows my mind that people are still reading this pet project of mine?!?! Seriously, thank you <3 And as always, [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear) and [Dachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dachi) are the best!!!


	12. Twelfth

The onsen is definitely more crowded than normal, but it wouldn’t have to be crowded for a wolf running through it to cause a ruckus.

Or, a wolf-like creature. The technicalities don’t matter much to Yuuri.

Yuuri’s sure that the reporters camped out here can put everything together. His ears and tail are the same as they were when he was competing. And typically a breakdown like his at the Final results in magic running wild, but never _increasing_ power like this. Sometimes it even makes your magic weaker. A deep bond can unlock these sorts of powers, but Yuuri would have to have had a clear head and determined magic for that. He’s barely able to keep up any of his bonds, much less one so important, and he would never forget something like that.

Still, despite none of it making any sense, they’ll put it together that this familiar creature is Katsuki Yuuri eventually.

But by then he’ll be long gone, and no one’s about to get up and chase a stray.

Luckily someone’s just heading outside as he approaches the door and he leaps past them, snickering a little at the high-pitched scream that the man lets out.

He’ll apologize to his parents for that later, but really, reporters tend to not be the nicest people anyway. Their money is just as valuable as anyone else’s, but they’re also more of a pain than anyone else.

Besides, Yuuri shouldn’t be focusing on them right now. He _can’t_ be focusing on them.

Mari had said that Victor and Makka had sneaked out, meaning that they probably used the back gate… And sure enough, it’s unlocked and Yuuri can push his way through. He tries to kick it shut as best he can, then steps out into the alley.

And he pauses.

He has no idea where Victor is.

Maybe he could have thought this through better.

Yuuri shifts on his paws, tail moving in agitated twitches as his ears turn back. He can just wait for Victor to come out, but if there are reporters lurking around, they might stumble back here looking for… well, he doesn’t know. The media’s crazy, though.

And Yuuri doesn’t want to wait. If only he had a cell phone to use—not that he even has Victor’s number. But if only there were some sign of where Victor went, or a way to track him.

Yuuri’s ears perk forward. He actually might be able to track him. He was just thinking yesterday about Makka sniffing around, wondering if he could, too. It’s embarrassing to even _think_ about, but it’s better than just standing around with a wad of his clothes in his mouth.

Yuuri adjusts the clothes so that they aren’t so much over his nose, closes his eyes, and takes a tentative sniff.

It’s… a _lot_ , now that he’s paying attention. It’s the tang of brine on the air from the ocean, the sharp sulfur from the onsen stronger than he’s ever smelled before. Under that there’s the soft smoke of Mari’s cigarettes, and the warm scent of the spices and sauces that Yuuri grew up with on his plate wafting from the kitchen. And much more pungent, more there, more _recent_ , is the heavy animal scent that is Makka, just a bit stronger than the way she smells to his human nose. And it’s harder to smell beneath Makka, but there’s a cleaner, gentler scent, and Yuuri knows it.

It’s hard to describe something unlike anything he’s ever smelt before. It has a musk, a very human musk, but it’s… comfort. It’s hands running through his hair as he drifts off to sleep, it’s fingers tangled with his, it’s an arm around him as he moves across the dance floor, it’s—

Yuuri huffs out a breath, shaking his head and taking a moment to stare at the pavement beneath his feet, grounding him. That was… intense. He remembers reading something about scents being associated with memories, but that was…

He shakes his head again. He can think about all that _later_ , he has more important things to think about now.

He sniffs again, ignoring the shiver that runs through his spine as he finds and focuses on that something that’s specifically _Victor_ and trots off after it.

It’s a winding path through the city, and a confusing one. It’s hard to stay focused on this single scent when so many things are going on, so many people and animals and objects moving through this space every single day. No wonder Makka was sniffing everything yesterday—Yuuri’s even slightly tempted to explore, but he stomps down on that desire the moment it crops up and closes his eyes to focus on Victor’s scent.

And, truthfully, it’s not hard to lose himself to it. It’s not hard to let all of the eyes on him, the buildings around him, fade away into the back of his mind. He must have really gotten a good sniff of Victor when they were in bed together, before he shifted back.

Yuuri huffs out a breath as he trails around a corner, tail hanging low. He hopes this works. He hopes that he’s wrong about everything he thinks he’s discovered about Victor—even if it all makes way too much sense. He just… he wants…

Well, Yuuri wants a lot of things. Many of those things he doesn’t even dare think, because there isn’t a hope that he’ll ever be able to have them. But one thing he thinks he can do. He _hopes_ he can do it, at least.

Maybe he can bring Victor a little happiness before he leaves Hasetsu. And that would make Yuuri happy, too.

Victor’s obviously tired yet restless, uninspired and looking for something, anything to fill that hole. And Yuuri can’t fill it for him, but maybe he can stay by his side while he looks for his answer. Maybe they could try and actually get to know each other without stumbling and fumbling over their words and conversations.

He knows it’s a lot to hope for. He knows he’s already pushed Victor away by refusing to bond, but… he might not forgive Yuuri, but he has to _understand_.

Yuuri hopes he understands.

This could all backfire so badly…

Yuuri yips as his paws sink into the earth instead of padding on more cracked pavement. He’s… at the beach? And Victor’s scent is strong here. He can smell the distinct tang of sweat and—oh, that’s a gross thing to know you can smell from a distance, but that means that Victor’s nearby for sure.

He picks up his pace, running along the beach and huffing through his nose, trying to catch his breath and keep Victor’s scent even though he knows there are only so many places that Victor could go from here.

He hears Makka barking before he sees either of them. But then she’s trotting up to him, half-soaking from the ocean, and he huffs a laugh as she touches noses with him and then juts out her front legs, tail wagging wildly. Obviously an invitation to play.

He shakes his head, even as he leans down to nuzzle his snout against Makka’s before standing up and looking around.

Yuuri’s eyes catch on a flash of silver almost instantly, a familiar form perched on a small rock outcropping a short way away.

Makkachin lopes off into the waves, biting at them as they roll in, leaving Yuuri to stand alone and look at Victor.

Victor doesn’t move. He just stares at Yuuri with eyes bluer than the ocean behind Yuuri, brighter than the sky, more emotion swimming in them than the entire rest of his blank face. The wind shifts the fringe of his hair and the light fabric of his shirt, but that’s the only movement around him.

For a long moment, Yuuri doesn’t move either. He doesn’t know if he should approach or not. He’s not sure what Victor wants.

But he’s never going to know if he doesn’t ask, is he?

And it’s not exactly like he can use words right now.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and lowers his head and his ears, tail tucked low and almost between his legs as he takes slow steps toward Victor.

Victor’s eyes follow Yuuri as he moves closer, but that’s the only sign that he’s not a statue, lifeless and motionless.

Soon he’s only a few steps away, and Yuuri comes to a stop, unsure of what to do next, eyes flicking down to the ground, trying to think. He knows what he wants to do, but getting to that point, well… Maybe Yuuri should try thinking these kinds of things through a little more.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Victor murmurs, voice rough, and Yuuri doesn’t know if it’s from disuse or emotion.

Yuuri shakes his head, ears flicking outward. Saying that he’s not afraid of Victor is a lie, but he’s not afraid of what Victor might do, he’s not afraid of Victor himself. Yuuri’s afraid of the power that Victor has to crush him, to take Yuuri’s entire world in his palm and to let it fall and shatter on the ground.

Yuuri’s pretty sure Victor’s not talking about that kind of fear, though.

Victor’s brow furrows, just slightly. “Then you can sit with me, if you’d like.”

Yuuri takes a moment to watch Victor, to let him take the words back if he wants to, but he doesn’t. Yuuri walks over and sets down his clothes, taking a moment to frown at the drool spot on them—why do mouths have to be so gross?—before sitting down and wrapping his tail around his paws.

Silence stretches in the negative space between them. Yuuri wants to say something, but he _can’t_. All he can do is howl and… and bark, probably. He’s never really made much noise while in this form besides growling and whining. He hasn’t bothered to explore how this body behaves and works because he tries to avoid it as much as possible.

He wishes he knew a bit more, now.

“May I?”

Yuuri swivels his head toward Victor to find his hand half-extended toward Yuuri. For a moment he can’t put together what Victor is asking. Then he realizes what Victor’s reaching for and a small noise escapes from his mouth because, _yes_ , he wants Victor’s fingers running through his coat again. It should be something completely inappropriate and horrific, he’s not _actually_ a dog and if he were human the touch would be way too intimate. And yet the wild magic in Yuuri trembles in anticipation of the touch, of the warmth of skin against his fur.

But Victor doesn’t take the noise for what it is.

“Ah.” Victor’s shoulders droop. “Sorry.” And he starts to draw his hand back.

Yuuri gives a small yip and ducks toward Victor, shoving his head beneath Victor’s hand before it can drop all of the way. For once, Yuuri’s _incredibly_ grateful he doesn’t have his human cheeks because they would be beet red right now. He’s not sure he could stand staying so close to Victor if he could see Yuuri’s expression and flush and be able to know how embarrassed he is.

As it is, his ears turn out, and he tentatively glances up at Victor.

And his breath stutters.

Yuuri knows that expression. He’s never actually seen it, but he’s felt it on his own face when he’s had a terrible day at practice, comes home, sits down on his bedroom floor and stares up at his posters of Victor. There’s determination in the set of his brow, but his eyes… Yuuri’s almost afraid to name the emotion there, but if he were pressed, he would say it’s devotion.

Looking at something unknowable and wanting to know it. Looking at something untouchable and wanting to touch it. And knowing that, despite wanting it more than _anything_ , you might never even catch a glimpse of it.

It’s too much to look at. It’s too much to _know_.

Yuuri looks down, taking breaths that make his ribcage tremble.

Victor’s hand moves after what feels like an eternity, fingers light as they slide through Yuuri’s smooth fur, the lightest tickle along his skin.

It’s like his entire being exhales. He can’t deny it’s in part because it feels good, of course it does; Victor’s magic has such a soothing and healing edge to it, but it’s also because it’s _okay_. Victor wanted to touch Yuuri before he even thought to ask for it. Something is wrong between them, something fractured that Yuuri doesn’t even entirely understand.

But he wants to understand.

He wants to know why Victor’s so desperate. Yuuri knows that his own desperation comes from having wanted to be good enough for Victor for years, but Victor didn’t even know who he was a few months ago. And now…

Now he’s staying despite Yuuri denying him again and again. Yuuri pushes Victor away, and he takes a step back. Victor takes a step forward, and Yuuri wants to flee.

It’s an awkward, tentative dance, but Yuuri will keep up the steps as long as Victor does.

Victor’s fingers dig deeper into Yuuri’s fur, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets himself just _feel_ the gentle scrape of Victor’s fingernails, the way his fingers caress him. It makes him feel valued. It makes Yuuri _want_.

But he stops those thoughts before they get too far. He can daydream all he wants, but _he’s_ the one that needs to keep saying no to Victor to keep them both safe.

Still, this is something he can enjoy. He can indulge. He leans into Victor’s touch and the heat of him soothe deep into his being, the magic in him running almost still as he can feel his fur retreat.

Yuuri gasps and pulls away, Victor’s fingers grazing skin and leaving a trail of sparks that haunt his senses long after the touch is gone.

“I won’t look,” Victor says, and sure enough, when Yuuri glances up his eyes are turned away.

Yuuri hurries as best he can to dress himself, even though it’s difficult with parts of his legs still covered in fur and half-shifted. Victor doesn’t seem impatient, at least. He says nothing and does nothing as Yuuri yanks on his pants and then t-shirt, simply waiting.

And then Yuuri’s dressed, and he realizes that not only _can_ he talk, he _has_ to talk.

Suddenly he’s not quite sure how he’s supposed to make his mouth work, he doesn’t know how to translate all of his thoughts into words. He doesn’t know which thoughts he _should_ translate into words. He’d been prepared to beg and whine and grovel to make Victor listen to him, stoop to whatever desperate measures that he had to take.

But he doesn’t have to do that.

In fact, since coming to Hasetsu, whenever Yuuri’s approached Victor he’s never turned away. At first because he was always reaching for Yuuri, and then when Yuuri rejected those advances, he simply waited and let Yuuri come back every single time. Even though Yuuri keeps crushing Victors desires whenever he offers them up. Yuuri’s not sure what keeps Victor here, but he’s grateful that he’s still staying.

“Thank you,” Yuuri murmurs, and he knows those words could apply to a lot of things. That Victor turned away for him to get dressed—even though he’s seen almost all of Yuuri naked when they first woke up together. That he’s still here. That he let Yuuri approach, even when he’d obviously come out here for space.

“It’s the least I could do,” Victor murmurs, giving Yuuri a smile that makes his chest ache.

“And I’m sorry.” Yuuri draws his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. It’s cold, especially now that he has no fur, but it’s more of a comfort thing to bundle himself up like this. As if his chest not being exposed will protect the frail heart within.

But Victor’s always been close to Yuuri’s heart in so many ways, though. There’s no way to actually protect himself in this.

“What are you sorry for?” Victor’s voice is a little too high, a little too shocked, like he can’t understand why Yuuri would be apologizing. Like Yuuri hasn’t been fumbling and crashing around all of their fragile interactions.

“I… I haven’t been very understanding of you. I’ve pushed you a lot.” Yuuri leans forward, pressing his face into his legs.

“I have, too. More than you, even. I assumed so much about you when we’ve barely talked. I know so little about you. Taking mageia and bonds out of the equation, it’s… I’m sorry for pushing.” Victor hangs his head a little.

“Is that why you were avoiding me?” Yuuri’s familiar ears turn forward, focused completely on Victor. How fitting that they had both holed up for being unsure of what to do about what they’ve already done.

“I wasn’t—” Victor shuts his mouth with a sharp click, staring out at the ocean for a moment before turning toward Yuuri with a small smile. “I suppose I was avoiding you, I just hadn’t thought about it like that. I’m just… I’m unsure of what you want me to be.”

“What?” Yuuri’s brow furrows, tail lashing behind him—he’s really barely just changed back.

“You don’t want to be my partner, correct?” Victor’s smile has already faded, like he expects the blow of Yuuri’s words to strike him yet again.

And Yuuri doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t have a choice. “It’s not that I don’t want it. I _can’t_.”

Victor nods, looking down at the ground for a second before meeting Yuuri’s eyes. “Then do you want me to be your coach?”

Yuuri shakes his head, somehow shocked that Victor _still_ thinks he’d be able to compete.

“Your father figure?” Victor barely gives him a chance to say no before continuing. “A brother, then? A friend? Then, your boyfriend?”

“N-n-no!” Yuuri jumps to his feet, needing just a moment of distance, a moment of getting away from _that_ thought before it settles into his head, because that’s forbidden territory with Victor right there when he _obviously_ means it as a joke. “All I want is for you to be _you_. I want you to be Victor.”

Victor stares up at him for a long moment, lips pressed together. “Victor might be someone different than you expect.”

“Victor _is_ already different than I expected,” Yuuri blurts, and then backpedals as fast as he possibly can—maybe validating Victor’s fears isn’t the smartest move. “I mean, I never knew you before now. I knew the posters on my wall, and the interviews you gave, but I never knew _you_. I didn’t know how you laughed when there isn’t a camera around, or how you have terrible bedhead when you get up in the middle of the night. I didn’t know how _much_ you loved Makkachin. I didn’t know how your hand felt in mine, or how you sm—”

Oh no, Yuuri’s going to make an ass of himself if he keeps going, and he’s even redder than he would have been if Victor was petting him as a human, and it’s time to change topics. “Besides, I’m not who you think I am, either. I’m terrible at opening up to people. I’m barely able to feel emotions over bonds when I _try_ , much less intuitively get them with a deep bond. I don’t know how to talk to people, or be smooth. I get anxious at the drop of a hat. It’s what constantly ruins me. I-I’m broken, and if we’re being honest, it hasn’t only been recently that it happened. I’m just— I’m a mess of a human being, and I don’t know how I made it this far without everyone calling me out on it.”

It’s Yuuri’s turn to snap his mouth shut, his familiar ears turning back as he realizes that he’s rambling now, and if anything before wasn’t enough to scare Victor away, this might be. He’s gone far beyond comforting Victor, instead tearing off scabs of his own wounds and exposing his flaws long before he should— If he _ever_ should.

“Yuuri.” Victor moves, and Yuuri looks back over to see him standing up and holding out a hand. “I think that you were right, before. I assumed that we knew each other enough, but that isn’t true. And if finding out who Victor is doesn’t scare you, knowing who Yuuri is doesn’t frighten me.”

Yuuri stares at the offered hand, mouth slightly open.

How?

_How_?

Victor should be running. Victor should be frowning and shaking his head and leaving him like most of his partners throughout his career. Yuuri is never enough for anyone, too many cracks and holes in his hands to hold onto anyone before they slip through and fall away.

Except Victor’s hanging on.

Yuuri’s shown him some of his cracks, and instead of turning his back and taking Makka and moving on, he’s…

He’s holding out his own hand, small cracks of his own beginning to show.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri swallows and reaches out, taking Victor’s hand for a moment before stepping closer, shifting his grip and sliding their fingers together.

“I’d like that,” Yuuri murmurs, staring at their joined palms for a moment. Then he looks up at Victor and finds a grin on his face that’s so bright and huge that it warms Yuuri from his toes to the tips of his long ears.

And if they don’t let go of each others’ hands until after they just before they get back to the onsen and the cameras lurking within, well. Neither of them mentions it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress? Perhaps???
> 
> Gonna keep this short since I've been up since 3am (though I may be closer to an answer to my health problems?), but as always, thank you so, so much for taking the time to check this fic out, and shoutout to Rae and Dachi for being badass <3


	13. Thirteenth

The first thing Yuuri does after he gets back home is change clothes—there might not be any wet spots on it from the long, meandering walk back that Victor and Yuuri had taken back, Yuuri pointing out places he knew, and Victor asking questions about everything that confused him—which was a _lot_ —but Yuuri knows these clothes were carried in his animal mouth. He may brush his teeth thoroughly as a human, but it’s still gross _knowing_ it.

The second thing he does is turn on his phone and text Phichit that he’s home okay, even though Mari’s probably let him know already since they saw her when they snuck in the back.

Predictably, Yuuri’s cornered into another video call to prove he’s safe and sound, along with a cross-examination about what happened with Victor. Yuuri only escapes when he promises to keep Phichit updated on everything and to never turn off his phone ever again.

And then the routine starts developing.

The first time that Yuuri goes to the onsen to find Victor already bathing he almost turns around and walks back out—but he gets caught.

But after their talk, Victor keeps his distance from Yuuri. He doesn’t try and break the onsen rules while they’re in it, they just talk. And to be honest, it quickly becomes the favorite part of Yuuri’s days.

Victor comes down and spends his meals with Yuuri too, sitting next to him, but not too close. Yuuri continues his tour of Hasetsu—he’s never seen anyone _that_ enthusiastic about the ninja house in Hasetsu castle before, it’s kind of charming—and Victor stays by his side throughout it all, asking questions and never trying to hide away.

And Yuuri can’t believe this is actually happening. That Victor’s wandering around his hometown, introducing himself to locals while ducking around reporters until they get bored of getting no news and terrible shots of Victor sneaking around corners.

Ever since Yuuri’s come back to Hasetsu, there’s been a disconnect between himself and the town. Like he doesn’t quite belong here, a puzzle piece that was lifted out and then replaced. And he knows part of it is his own fault; he’s hidden away ever since he got home, a monster that doesn’t feel quite human enough to be around other people.

But being dragged around by Victor makes him see things differently. No one looks at his half-shifted form with shock or disgust. They say hello, ask how his family’s doing, ask about America. Most of them care more about greeting Yuuri than paying any attention to the celebrity in their midst—which is so ridiculous that Yuuri almost laughs.

Though as the days stretch on, long and lazy, they start asking about Victor, too. Whatever loose threads that tied Yuuri to this town seem to be tightening, growing stronger, and it’s so strange because Victor’s an outsider. Yuuri doesn’t even know Victor.

Though that’s not true anymore, is it? He’s learning.

He now knows that Victor hates seaweed because of the texture, but he’ll eat pretty much anything else that the Katsukis put in front of him. He knows that when Yuuri has a rough night, there’s a good chance that he’ll find Victor up too, and will have a cup of tea together while talking about things like their childhood or telling funny stories about Mari or Makkachin. He knows that Victor isn’t quite as particular about his looks when he knows he won’t be photographed, just as likely to lay around in sweats when they decide to spend a rainy day inside, watching movies.

And Yuuri learns that Victor won’t touch him now.

It’s not that Yuuri has any right to mind. He’s the one who ran from Victor before, he can’t help it if Victor no longer wants to brush shoulders or take their hands together. Yuuri knows that it’s fine this way—good, even. Victor _is_ still going to leave someday, but…

But Yuuri doesn’t like it.

It feels _wrong_. Or, at least Yuuri thinks it does. Maybe he’s just so used to Victor being this other person, this _being_ built up into his head, that he wants everything he can get from Victor. Yuri can be selfish. He has to learn to be less needy with Victor, and he can do that. The tentative friendship that’s blossoming between them is too precious for Yuuri to risk it on demanding too much from Victor.

So he doesn’t reach out when they walk so close that their arms _could_ brush but don’t. He doesn’t lean against Victor after they’ve eaten and they’re both full and sleepy. He doesn’t reach out and hold Victor when melancholy seeps in and chills the blue of his eyes, though it’s a near thing on those days.

But Victor’s going to leave, and Yuuri won’t be around to hold him forever anyway. Yuuri can’t fix him, he doesn’t even want to try. Yuuri doesn’t want anyone fixing _himself_ , it’d be rude to assume that someone else wants it.

And anyway, what they have is great. It’s wonderful. It’s more than anything Yuuri ever hoped for.

He can survive without holding Victor’s hand.

Maybe.

He sighs and stares at the jinbei in his hands, as if it holds any answers. But no, he’s just sitting cross-legged on the floor with mountains of laundry and his dumb brain. This is _silly_. He never wanted to hold Phichit’s hand this badly. Then again, Phichit was the type to take Yuuri and drag him around places, almost intrinsically filling Yuuri’s need for casual touches without even noticing it.

And Yuuri should be fine. Makkachin sleeps with him most nights, Mari’s always around to ruffle his hair and pat his shoulder, and he’s gotten a hug from both his parents just this morning.

This is ridiculous.

He’s ridiculous.

He shouldn’t even allow himself to think about this. Victor deserves better.

“Oh come _on_ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri blinks and turns to the door of the laundry room, finding Mari leaning there.

“You’ve been in here for an _hour_ and you’ve folded maybe three jinbei. And I _know_ you haven’t been shifting that much lately.” She crosses her arms, reaching for her cigarettes before probably remembering how their mom scolds her for smoking around the clean laundry. “Will you guys just bang each other and get it over with?”

“ _What_?” Yuuri launches the jinbei away from him as if it burned to touch. Did she just— _No_ , no, she couldn’t— But she did?

“You heard me.” She rolls her eyes. “I know you won’t, but I had to say something to snap you out of it. What’s your problem now? It seems like you and Victor are getting along, even if Minako won’t stop glaring at him whenever she’s over.”

A smile tugs at Yuuri’s lips. Minako is still feeling protective over Yuuri, and it’s almost nice. But also hilarious. If Minako could only see Victor now, his _real_ smiles and his enthusiasm over everything…

Except holding Yuuri’s hand.

He groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead on his palms. “It’s nothing. It’s dumb.”

“Is ‘dumb’ code for ‘Victor,’ by any chance?”

“No.” Yuuri sits up straight, glaring at Mari. “ _Victor_ isn’t dumb. _I’m_ the dumb one.”

“Nope.” Mari pops her ‘p.’ “You’re both the dumb ones, making the rest of us suffer with your stupidity. Spit it out.”

Yuuri sighs. Fine. He can just… modify the truth. “Victor just seems… distant.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “You two are attached at the hip, I’m surprised he hasn’t already hunted you down to taunt you while you procrastinate on working.”

Yuuri just keeps glaring. “I’m just distracted, okay? And he’s off helping Mom with the finances.”

“He’s _what_?” She gapes for a minute before her mouth closes, forming a more thoughtful line. “Well, I guess the guy did somehow get rich off of mageia alone.”

Yuuri almost points out all the sponsorships and ads that Victor’s done to get to where he is, but he bites his tongue. “It’s fine, he just has things to do.”

“You see, you’re telling the truth right there.” Mari jabs a finger at him. “It’s not the physical distance that’s bothering you— _wait_ , it _is_?”

Yuuri curses himself for wincing at Mari’s words. “When Victor was first here, he just… he acted differently around me.”

“You mean he clung onto you like a leech.” Mari sighs. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“Have I— What?” Yuuri blinks up at her. “Of _course_ I haven’t! I don’t want to just _demand_ that he… I don’t even know, this is so dumb.”

“It’s _not_ dumb. You guys are _acting_ dumb, but this isn’t dumb.” She finally steps into the room, ruffling his hair. “If he has a good reason why he’s not like that anymore, it’s better if you know, right? Besides, that guy acts like he’d jump off a bridge if you asked. Just talk to Victor, okay?”

“Talk to me about what?”

Yuuri jumps, tail springing to life and tearing his pants with an awkward, embarrassing rip. _Great_. At least this pair he can mend—he’s getting so low on clothes, and he doesn’t exactly have the budget to replace his entire wardrobe…

“Um!” Yuuri shakes off his thoughts. “Talk to you about… taking a soak in the onsen?”

Mari raises an eyebrow, but thankfully her back is turned to Victor.

“Oh, that sounds amazing!” Victor smiles, and it’s not as brilliant as normal so Yuuri knows he absolutely doesn’t buy it, but he follows Yuuri’s lead, anyway.

Something deep in Yuuri aches with a sharp sort of pain with that.

Okay, so maybe not talking to Victor isn’t a good idea. Lying is the worst option that Yuuri’s thought of yet when it makes Victor look like _that_. Maybe Mari’s right, maybe he should talk to Victor.

Yuuri doesn’t say anythingin the onsen, though.

He’d like to blame getting distracted, but that would be another lie. It lurks just beneath the surface of his thoughts as Victor rambles about Russian dishes he thinks Yuuri might like until they have to get out of the onsen. The guilt taps its heel as Yuuri and Victor go take Makkachin for a walk, and while they sit and have dinner just the two of them, the rest of the family having eaten early before the dinner rush.

Yuuri can practically feel Mari’s judging glare at the back of his neck.

But it’s so dumb and stupid and _ridiculous_.

He goes to bed and sits on his phone for hours, trying to distract the thoughts out of his head, but if anything they get louder and louder as the time passes and even Phichit goes to sleep—he is training for the next season, after all.

And that stings a little.

Yuuri doesn’t resent Phichit—he knows if the tables were turned, he wouldn’t just stop competing because his friend couldn’t. The only exception might be if he had a partner and couldn’t find a replacement, but Yuuri’s better solo anyway.

No, it just hurts so much to see everything and everyone move on without him. That his absence doesn’t matter or change anything. He knew that he was a mediocre performer at best, he knew he’d be forgotten about—but what he didn’t anticipate was how deeply and desperately he wishes he could be there and make this year something that no one could ever forget.

Something that Victor couldn’t take his eyes off of.

Yuuri huffs and throws off his sheets before he works himself up into a full shift. He hates how the shifting seems to be so tied to his emotions. At least with puberty it was kind of random, but now every time he changes, every time he ruins another pair of clothes, it feels like it’s his fault.

He scowls as he shoves his glasses onto his face. Why does every frustrating thought have to be hitting _right now_? At least the whole issue with Victor seems almost less important in comparison.

Almost.

Kind of?

He finally gets up, Makka jumping up from where she’d been curled up at the foot of the bed, and tries focusing more on his footsteps instead of his thoughts. Yu-topia is the same as always, at least. The darkness is seething and thick but not able to judge him for avoiding so many situations.

He should probably start going back to Minako’s and training to stay in shape. He needs to be useful _somehow_ , and though Victor’s a great distraction, when he leaves there’ll be a void that Yuuri will need to fill. That might help his random shifting, too—dancing keeps him somewhat calm, even if he can’t weave magic into it.

As for Victor…

Yuuri flicks on the kitchen lights and it’s somehow entirely unsurprising to find Victor sitting there with a cup of tea.

“Yuuri!” Victor manages to smile at him, _really_ smile, even with the deep bags beneath his eyes.

And it makes Yuuri smile a little too, even as guilt nibbles away at him. “Hi, Victor.”

Yuuri goes about setting up the electric kettle for his own cup of tea, the silence stretching heavy and thick, but not in an awkward way. There’s the slight scratching noise of Victor reaching down to pet Makka, her panting soft and relaxed. There’s the light bubbling of the kettle as it gets hotter and hotter, and then shutting off as it reaches temperature.

Victor’s never been one to let silence sit long, though.

“Are you okay?” Victor asks quietly as soon as Yuuri sits down in the chair they’d brought into the kitchen just for nights like this, so they could both sit.

And Yuuri— He’s not sure if he wants to laugh or to cry more, so he just stares. He doesn’t demand that Yuuri tells him what’s wrong, maybe because he’s learned that Yuuri doesn’t ever respond to anything well when he’s asked about it head-on. Maybe he’s just trying to be considerate.

Either way, it’s more than Yuuri deserves.

“I… am. Or, well, I’m not. But not, like, _really_ bad.” Yuuri is _way_ too tired for this. He turns his attention down to his tea, running his fingers along too-hot ceramic until his fingertips burn.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Again, not demanding.

Yuuri doesn’t deserve this.

“I… I think I do. But it’s embarrassing.”

“What if I promise not to laugh?”

Yuuri looks up at Victor, and he’s not grinning, nor is he teasing.

All right. If Victor can be mature about this, so can Yuuri.

Even if his request is childish in the first place.

“Okay. Well, um… Is there a reason that you won’t touch me anymore?”

Victor just blinks at Yuuri for a second, face blank.

“I mean!” Yuuri scrambles to fill the silence. “N-not in a creepy way or anything. Just you used to hold my hand a lot. And you tried to hug a lot? And I— I’m um…” How creepy is it that he _misses_ something like that?

“You didn’t hate it?” Victor finally asks.

“Uh.” Yuuri glances down at his tea, then back to Victor. “I liked it. I mean— Well, yeah. I mean that.”

“Oh.” Victor takes a long sip from his mug and Yuuri can’t figure out what any of this means. Victor’s not freaking out, or at least it doesn’t _seem_ like he is. At least he hasn’t called Yuuri terrible or creepy yet. “You just always tensed up when I touched you.”

Yuuri frowns. “Not when we held hands.”

“I— Well, no.” Victor frowns into his mug. “I suppose you’re right, I just...” He laughs, but there’s no humor to it, before running a hand through his already-mussed hair. “I suppose I assumed again, didn’t I? I assumed that one ‘no’ meant a no to everything and anything else. That’s my fault.”

Yuuri tries to give a smile, but it gets stuck a little. Victor’s not angry, he’s not mad, and… and maybe he wants this, too?

With a deep breath, Yuuri moves his hand away from his cup and closer to Victor, facing palm-up. His face is red, he _knows_ it is, and it’s embarrassing, and it’s _dumb_ , and Victor’s going to get up and walk away—

Except that he doesn’t, because within seconds Victor’s hand is in his and _oh_ , the warmth of him and the faint, soothing touch of Victor’s magic beneath his skin is so much nicer and better than Yuuri could have possibly remembered it.

Victor laughs softly, and the grin on his face is wide and real when Yuuri looks over. “You know, I’d been feeling so terrible between pushing you away and not having Makkachin with me when I sleep. I… I like to have people around, you see, but I’ve been doing this for nothing this whole time.”

“You didn’t do it for nothing.” Yuuri tightens his grip on Victor’s hand before he takes a long sip of his tea. “And I’m sorry about Makka, I swear she just follows me, and… She follows me around a lot, doesn’t she?”

Victor snorts, and Yuuri loves the sound of it—he’s _never_ heard Victor make that noise in any interview. “She follows you _everywhere_. At this point I think she loves you more than me.”

“What?” Yuuri almost pulls away but just catches himself. He’s afraid to break the connection, to find that this was all just a dream. “No, she definitely doesn’t. She just knows I’m a sucker.” Yuuri pauses to take another sip and frown. “I’ll try and kick her out.”

Victor shakes his head.” Don’t bother, she’ll just sneak back in when you’re asleep.”

“Oh.” That’s not fair to Victor. If he needs Makka to sleep, then Yuuri can’t just steal her. Though if Makka won’t leave Yuuri then… “Then I’ll sleep with you!”

Everything in Yuuri freezes solid for a brief second as his words catch up with him.

“I-I mean! Um, I just meant… You should have Makka to sleep, and if she’s only sleeping with me, I just… you know. I don’t mean— I don’t mean _anything.”_

“There’s enough room, I suppose.” Victor… Victor’s _blushing_? And he’s not quite meeting Yuuri’s eyes. “I’m okay with it. If you are?”

He almost sounds unsure.

He’s still holding Yuuri’s hand, though.

Yuuri should say no. This is his dumbest thought yet, and he’s had a _lot_ of ridiculous ones today alone. He isn’t allowed to get attached to Victor like this. Once he knows what it’s like to sleep in Victor’s bed, he’s never going to unknow that.

But… it’s so nice to be near Victor like this again. Just the idea of letting go of Victor’s hand is unthinkable. There’s something fragile in the peace between them, something fresh and new that might fall apart if Yuuri even so much as looks away. And he doesn’t _want_ to look away.

He doesn’t want to say no.

So he doesn’t.

“Okay.” Yuuri smiles up at Victor as Makka trots over to sit between them, leaning her weight onto his thigh as if she approves of his decision too. “We’ll finish our tea first, but… We can sleep in your bed tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little did they know this was Makka’s plan all along…
> 
> (Jk… unless???)
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuing to read about these silly dorks!!! I hope you're all doing well. <3 I'm about the same on my end. As always, bless [Rae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedear/pseuds/raedear) and [Dachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dachi) for help bringing this fic to life!!! <3 <3 <3


	14. Fourteenth

Yuuri knows how he got here, but at the same time, he doesn’t. He remembers every single moment and conversation that happened earlier that night. He remembers every step he took coming up the stairs, a hand steadily gripping his own in a gentle blanket of warmth. He even remembers crawling into the silky sheets and wondering at the small fortune that something this soft must cost.

But now he’s in a _bed_ with _Victor Nikiforov_ and that just can’t be real. It’s the most ridiculous thing he can think of happening in his life.

But it’s his reality.

He stares at the ceiling for long moments just trying to wrap his mind around the fact that it’s not just Makka’s steady snoring keeping him company into the late hours of the night, but also Victor’s soft breathing.

There’s enough light coming in the room from the window—still open for whatever reason, letting in the light from the street and the waxing moon—that Yuuri could turn his head and just _see_ Victor, connect the noise with the physical manifestation of him, but… he can’t. If he sees Victor, he might not be able to handle it.

Which is another thing that makes absolutely no sense.

Yuuri sees Victor every day. Yuuri talks to him, Yuuri sees him play with Makka, Yuuri sees him freak out like a little kid at everything new and unusual that they see. He knows Victor isn’t frightening. Yuuri even just talked to Victor about one of his most embarrassing thoughts, that he missed Victor _touching_ him of all things, and he didn’t laugh at Yuuri for it. He… he wanted it, too?

Victor isn’t terrifying.

Yuuri knows this.

But there’s something about turning and seeing Victor asleep that makes Yuuri’s heart beat a little faster, makes his magic prick against his skin and threaten a shift. Victor’s hair is probably even more mussed than Yuuri last saw it. Maybe his mouth is parted a little. Maybe he’s wrapped up in his sheets like a cocoon, maybe his entire naked torso is exposed—because, apparently, Victor sleeps entirely shirtless and this was something that Yuuri hadn’t even _thought_ about and now he doesn’t know what to do with that.

Because he doesn’t really even understand how he feels about Victor.

He’s always thought of Victor as distantly attractive, of course. He’s a very pretty man to look at. And yeah, he got those magazines that had Victor nearly naked to show off the body of an athlete, sure he might be pressured to admit he had some fantasies, but that just isn’t how he feels about the Victor laying next to him.

Because a real, living person is so much more different and complex than a shiny, printed page in a magazine. Victor’s different than the untouchable figure in the arena dancing and weaving magic unlike anything that Yuuri’s seen before as he watches from the shadows.

Victor is all those things, but he’s also everything that Yuuri’s learned about him too. He’s so much more than Yuuri could ever know. And… and maybe it isn’t any of those facts that are really frightening. Yuuri’s never been afraid of Victor as an idol and a friend.

But what he is afraid of is that little part of him that warms and glows at the thought of Victor trusting him enough to sleep in the same bed with him, to be fragile and imperfect in rest and be okay with Yuuri seeing that. He’s afraid of the fact that Victor didn’t hesitate at all in reaching over and taking his hand when Yuuri offered it. The fact that Victor wouldn’t demand Makka sleep only with Victor since he can’t sleep without her because he knew she was enjoying Yuuri—and he doesn’t even know about the loss that Yuuri’s had, the _reason_ why Makka sleeping with Yuuri brings him so much comfort. He just… It seems like he wants Yuuri to be happy.

Which Yuuri can’t say is new. He knows that his family and friends want happiness for him in a distant, abstract way. But something about Victor is bringing out the realness in that. Yuuri’s felt that this entire time, his entire life in mageia, he’s been fighting alone because no one understood him. Even Yuuko moved on from the path that Yuuri followed eventually.

But just because they didn’t understand it doesn’t mean that they didn’t care and invest as much as they could in him and his career.

Even now, as Yuuri’s broken and useless to everyone, his family is supporting him in pursuing whatever he wants, Yuuko and Takeshi keeping the doors to the arena always open for him, and even Minako—who has never been shy in talking about disliking competition in preference for performance arts—is finding any way she can to help Yuuri get back on his feet doing what he loves.

And if he was feeling overwhelmed and frightened before, that has nothing on the feelings roiling through Yuuri now.

Because how can he deserve any of this? What has he ever done but be a burden to all of them? Even with Victor, even if his demands were ridiculous and dangerous, Yuuri’s done nothing but deny him since he got here.

But Victor’s still here.

He even let Yuuri invite himself into his _bed_.

Maybe Yuuri should just… go. Makkachin is passed out cold between Yuuri and Victor, both on the edges of the large bed. Yuuri doubts she’ll get up to follow him anytime soon. And from the steady sounds of Victor’s breathing, there’s a good chance that he’s asleep too.

Yuuri should go. It’s not like he’s going to get any sleep like this. And, well, he probably won’t sleep in his own bed, but at least he can toss and turn and get up to pace if he needs to. Yes, he should go.

But he doesn’t.

He wants to have a good reason why he isn’t, but… he doesn’t have anything. Just that he doesn’t want to. Despite the fact that he’s so uncomfortable that he feels one of his familiar ears form on his head, his fur coming and going as he otherwise lies still. He just wants to stay.

Maybe it’s because otherwise he’ll wake up tomorrow and think that all of this was a dream, that maybe Victor might take it back if Yuuri steps away if even for a second—even though he knows that’s ridiculous.

Yuuri gives a long sigh.

So, maybe inviting himself into Victor’s bed wasn’t the smartest idea. Who knew.

“Yuuri?”

Victor’s voice almost startles a scream out of Yuuri, but as it is, it just makes his other familiar ear pop into existence as he turns and looks toward Victor.

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat.

The light of the window is behind Victor, partially obscuring his face, but Yuuri can see enough. His fringe lays partially across his face and partially across the pillow, fine and soft and glowing silver in the moonlight. There’s a slight furrow in his brow, his lips pressed together, but his eyes are bright and lovely, even when Yuuri can’t really make out the blue. And… and he’s holding out a hand across the vast expanse of sheets between them.

Toward Yuuri.

It’s not even a question if Yuuri will or should take Victor’s hand; his arm is already moving and his fingers entwining through Victor’s before he can really think about it, a slight blush rising to his cheeks when his mind catches up to him.

He both hates and loves how easy it is to take Victor’s hand like this, how all of his questions about staying or leaving go quiet as Victor’s skin brushes his own, holds on tight enough that Yuuri wonders, briefly, if Victor needed this contact, too.

Yuuri pushes that thought from his mind before it can settle, finally answering Victor’s call. “Yeah?”

Victor’s thumb brushes against Yuuri’s in small, comforting movements. “If you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to.”

“N-no, I’m not— what gave you that idea?” Yuuri’s grip tightens a little, even though he knows it’s a tell.

Victor squeezes back, even though Yuuri can see his eyebrow raise. “You’re still awake.”

“So are you,” Yuuri shoots back.

“And you’ve been sighing and fidgeting constantly.” Victor’s eyes move from Yuuri’s face to look at their hands. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but you don’t have to lie.”

“I…” Victor’s right, there’s no reason for him to hide what’s going on, but he still wants to bury himself under easy lies, under armor that will keep the real Yuuri safe while a fictional Yuuri takes all the damage and rejection that’s sure to come.

But… that’s not really what Yuuri wants here. Regardless of how he feels and what his brain says, this is Victor, who spent an hour on the floor earlier that day grooming Makka because he shouldn’t have a dog if he can’t take care of it properly. This is the man who nearly cried because ramen tasted so divine to him. And the man who rolls up his sleeves and helps wash dishes every time things get busy, regardless of what he was doing beforehand.

No matter how much easier it is to just hide himself away, or how much these new and strange sensations that spark and shimmer in Yuuri make him want to pull back into his own space, this is just Victor. And he’s not afraid of that

And besides, this isn’t permanent. This isn’t forever. But Yuuri wants what he can get. It’ll make it hurt more when everything comes to an end, Yuuri knows that. This is different from anything he’s ever felt or done before.

But he knows what he wants.

“I want to stay with you,” Yuuri murmurs, looking at their hands instead of Victor, too. “I’m just… not used to this.”

“Me neither.” Victor’s smiling when Yuuri looks up at him. “If I’m being honest, I’ve never actually slept in the same bed as another person.”

Yuuri flushes at the implications of _other_ kinds of sleeping, but it fades pretty quickly when Yuuri realizes what he means.

“I used to crawl into bed with Mari when I was little. She might seem prickly, but she’s really soft when it comes down to it,” Yuuri admits, smiling a little as he remembers Mari rolling her eyes, but how he’d wake up with her clinging to him tighter than he ever clung to her. “And I used to fall asleep on Phichit sometimes when we were just hanging out.”

“Sounds nice…” Victor’s thumb stills slightly as his eyes flutter shut, the sight soothing Yuuri, too.

Yuuri shifts their hands so he can be the one stroking Victor. He could probably keep talking and keep Victor awake, but he knows how tired Victor’s been. The bags under his eyes say enough, but the way that he’ll lose focus in the middle of conversations, or his eyes drooping during dinner, or how sometimes his walks with Makka are more shuffling than striding—that’s enough to tell Yuuri how exhausted Victor is.

So Yuuri waits until Victor’s breathing falls into a soft pattern, and—much to Yuuri’s entertainment—there’s a slight whistling noise coming from Victor’s nose before he lets his eyes fall shut.

And there’s something different about being in this strange bed, with this strange person, when they’re holding hands. Whenever Yuuri’s mind starts to run in circles and say that he doesn’t have this, he _can’t_ have this, he doesn’t _deserve_ this and he should go back to his lonely, cold bed in his empty, sad room—

It doesn’t matter

The warmth of their fingers entwined grounds him, drags him down into the sweet darkness of peace and sleep.

He does have this. Regardless of what he deserves, he’s holding it all in the palm of his hand, and right now, he’s not letting go

__________

Awareness is a slow thing to come to Yuuri in the mornings. In Detroit, he used to reach the rink without even remembering getting there, and Phichit would make up wild tales about the mornings that were _just_ believable enough that it made Yuuri question everything.

So when there’s a softly whispered, “Yuuri,” in his ear, no one can really _blame_ Yuuri for responding by nuzzling deeper into his pillow and giving a muffled, “No.”

Except… his pillow is awfully warm for being a pillow. And hard and muscular. And, as Yuuri’s hands explore, it has pecs.

Victor sucks in a little gasp as Yuuri makes this discovery.

But, you know what, Yuuri doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around his not-pillow and settles in.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor whines. “It’s almost noon.”

“So?” Yuuri mumbles into Victor’s chest. He never realized that this sort of thing would be so comfortable. Makkachin’s going to have to move from the center of the bed so that Yuuri can have his new pillow.

“I wanted to get up and do something with you!”

“No.” Yuuri hugs Victor tighter. “Sleep.”

Victor sucks in another breath as Yuuri clings to him, but then huffs before he starts to comb his fingers through Yuuri’s hair.

And Yuuri _melts_ , a small shiver running through him as his familiar ears turn out, away from his head. He’s pretty sure that he would purr if he could. Maybe people with cat-type familiar parts can do that. He could just stay here with Victor’s hands in his hair forever…

Until Victor stops.

Yuuri grumbles, adjusting his head so it’s his chin against Victor and not his face, glaring up at him. Though it’s probably more of a squint as his eyes adjust.

Victor gives a tiny little gasp. “ _Yuuri_. You have _whiskers_.”

Yuuri frowns, finally relinquishing his grip enough brushing against his cheeks—and hissing before drawing back. “Sensitive,” Yuuri mutters, wiggling his cheeks a little to try and chase away the ticklish sensation.

Victor _coos_ , even as Yuuri frowns at him. “Can I touch?”

Yuuri opens his mouth for an instant _no_ , but he hesitates as the word comes to his lips. Because Victor is looking at him with wide, awed eyes, the sun reflecting in them as he stares unwaveringly at Yuuri. And it makes Yuuri feel precious and treasured, warmed by the light of Victor’s gaze.

He’s not sure he could deny Victor anything when he looks at Yuuri like that.

“Okay,” Yuuri murmurs, then frowns. “But if I kick you because it tickles, it’s your fault.”

“I will _gladly_ accept the injury as a sacrifice.” Victor beams, eyes squinting shut, and Yuuri somehow feels even warmer than before.

“Y-you say that now, but I gave Mari a black eye and kicked out one of her kid teeth when I was so young I don’t even remember.” Yuuri draws out a hand to poke at Victor’s side. “Don’t take it lightly.”

Victor laughs, and it’s so light and lovely that it derails Yuuri’s thoughts for a moment. “Duly noted.”

And then Victor’s reaching out, brushing against the skin of Yuuri’s cheeks and dragging ever so gently among the stiff hairs of his whiskers and—

_Oh._ Oh, this feels so much different than his own fingers. The magic beneath Victor’s skin that’s normally so soothing, so relaxing, hums beneath Yuuri’s skin. It’s even more pleasant than Victor’s hands in his hair and Yuuri _shakes_ as a moan punches out of his chest.

Yuuri jerks away at the noise, scrambling upright—thankfully Makkachin seems to have wandered off and he doesn’t smack her—and suddenly _much more awake_ , mind reeling as he tries to catch up to _that_.

“I take it that it didn’t tickle?” Victor smirks up at Yuuri, only a faint flush of pink along the bridge of his nose and spilling onto his cheeks.

Yuuri’s familiar ears turn back, and he’s happy his tail isn’t out to lash around and get tangled in the blankets. “It— no. I-I’m sorry.”

“Why? It didn’t seem like it hurt?” Victor’s smirk only grows.

Yuuri reaches out and pinches Victor’s shoulder, earning an exaggerated yelp and a pout in return.

_There._ This is normal, Yuuri knows how to deal with this. “Anyway, you better have had a good reason for waking me up.”

“Oh!” Victor reaches out over the short distance between them, palm up in askance, and though it takes some finagling, they manage to wrap their hands together. Almost like Victor needs to be grounded. “Well, I was wondering… Would you mind introducing me to Minako?”

Yuuri takes a moment to stare at him and wonder if he still needs to wake up for this to make sense. “But you’ve already met her?”

“Yes,” Victor says slowly, cautiously. “But, I was focused on… something else when we met, and I want to try again. She’s important to you. She was your first real coach. I want to know her and try to make amends.”

Yuuri frowns. “How do you know that she was my coach?” That was _years_ ago.

Victor scoffs. “You expect me to offer to be someone’s partner without doing my research?”

Oh. It had been so long since Victor’s brought that up that Yuuri’d almost hoped he’d forgotten that ridiculous idea—but of course he wouldn’t forget.

At least this time Victor just grins lazily at Yuuri. There aren’t any questions hidden in what he just said. He’s not pushing.

“Still, you had to have dug for that.”

“I wanted to know everything!” Victor chirps, and Yuuri’s stomach sinks as he thinks of _everything_ —but Victor doesn’t let him think about it for long. “So? What do you say? Can we pay Minako a visit today?

Yuuri hesitates for a moment. He’s been thinking of going back to the studio and getting some practice in, trying to get back on track to do _something_ with his life. It’s just taking the steps to get there that’s been holding him up, to leave the onsen and Victor and go back to a life that he feels almost like he’s settling for.

And, honestly, the thought of not having to leave Victor behind makes the idea of stopping by Minako’s studio infinitely more appealing.

“Okay.” Yuuri nods. “We’ll go to Minako’s today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEDSHARING, BEDSHARING, BEDSHARING!!!!!!!!
> 
> Sorry for the delayed chapter, I had a medical thing this morning (no results or answers yet). I know things are stressful for a lot of us right now, but I hope this is a bit of an escape for you guys <3 Thank you all so much for reading!!!


	15. Fifteenth

The moment that Yuuri’s away from Victor, escaped to his room to change clothes, he turns into a blushing mess. He just slept with Victor Nikiforov, draped himself across Victor Nikiforov, _shoved his face in Victor Nikiforov’s chest_ —

Oh no, going feral in the countryside of Japan is no longer an option. Yuuri has to say goodbye to his mother country and escape to somewhere no one would think to look. Antarctica might be a good option. No one would think to look for him there, not even Phichit. He could live out his days in an igloo, eating fish.

But he’d still know what it’s like to be pressed up against Victor Nikiforov and know that he can’t have it again. Not to mention he slept _good_ last night. Less restless than he has in a long time.

He can’t assume that Victor will want to sleep together tomorrow night, or _any_ night for that matter, but if he skips the trip to Antarctica, he’s going to have a lot higher of a possibility of that never happening again.

So, Yuuri makes the difficult decision of not moving to Antarctica, then heads downstairs to find Victor. Besides, Victor seems really interested in meeting Minako. Maybe Minako can help Victor find a compatible partner in Japan if he really is transferring his citizenship for whatever reason.

Yuuri pointedly ignores the pain that comes along with that fact. Victor can’t bond with Yuuri, even if he really wants to. Yuuri supposes they could form a bond and break it right away if it seems off, and bonds break by themselves if there’s malicious intent anyway, so if Yuuri was about to hurt Victor maybe it would break?

No, the damage might already be done by then. No one knows how or why Yuuri’s like this, he doesn’t know how it’ll affect others or spread. Besides, he’s never been able to form bonds deep enough to really make a good partnership for mageia. There’s a reason that a lot of the people who compete are romantically involved, very good friends, or family.

He’s absolutely not jealous of some nameless, faceless person that Victor may or may not compete with. He has no reason or right to be jealous.

Yuuri sighs, walking out to the front of Yu-topia, and all of those thoughts flee his mind at the sight of Victor’s wide smile.

“Hiroko says that Mari took Makka out for a walk, so I think we can safely let her stay here and get spoiled by guests.” Victor waits a moment while Yuuri slides on his shoes, and then he tentatively holds out a hand, as if asking _is this okay_? “Are you ready?”

Yuuri nods, taking Victor’s hand and letting him pull Yuuri to his feet before adjusting his grip but hanging on. “I’m ready.”

Victor beams, and then Yuuri tugs them out the door and into the streets.

Spring has finally hit Hasetsu, the tentative buds of green having filled out to pale green leaves, the delicate scent of the cherry blossoms wafting through the air. Yuuri kind of wonders what they’d smell like through his other, familiar nose, but he’s not going to protest not having shifted fully in the past few days.

Honestly, he’s starting to feel almost as good as he had before the video went viral. Maybe even better? It makes him almost excited to go to Minako’s again to start up training again. He doesn’t dare to even think that he’ll ever be better, he knows that his magic isn’t his to control anymore. But maybe… he can get close.

Victor talks a bit about his own performance instructor as they make their way through the town, a slight breeze blowing the warm air through their hair and their clothes. Yuuri’s heard of Lilia Baranovskaya, of course he has—Minako herself used to mention her for her intense mastery of precision in dance, specifically ballet, long before Yuuri heard the name in connection with Victor.

What Yuuri _didn’t_ know is that she used to be married to Victor’s coach, Yakov Feltsman. How she refused to participate in such a lowly sport with Yakov when he used to compete, but Victor thinks that she secretly likes it and their bond just wasn’t deep enough to compete with. Yuuri winces at that, and Victor gives him an odd look.

“I’m sorry if I’m gossiping too much. It’s just been a while since I’ve talked so much with anyone outside training together in my arena—I don’t think I’ve talked to _anyone_ this much in the last twenty years, honestly.” Victor gives a small smile.

Yuuri takes that in for a second, and… he can’t even imagine. In Detroit he may have trained with Phichit, but they were always friends first and foremost, and whenever they had off days together, they’d go and do something even if Phichit had to drag Yuuri out of his bedroom himself. Before that, Yuuri had Hasetsu and he was surrounded by people outside of mageia, even if he needed space for himself, too.

Yuuri’s never felt so spoiled by being surrounded by so many people until right now.

Though that’s not what made Yuuri grimace.

“No, it’s interesting to hear about other arenas, don’t worry.” Yuuri swings their hands a little, something to distract himself to get the words out. “I just… I’ve never been good about forming deep bonds with people. I’ve never even had one before—even when I bonded with Phichit it was shallow.”

Victor stares at him for a long moment, mouth parted, and Yuuri can’t help but think he said the wrong thing in admitting that. After all, Victor’s had a lot of successful partnerships, he’s won with more partners than anyone in history. He has to have so many bonds with so many powerful people—it’s a wonder he has any magic of his own.

“My bonds haven’t been particularly deep, either,” Victor murmurs, turning to look straight ahead, face carefully neutral in a way that isn’t quite natural—not for someone as expressive as Victor. “That’s why I’ve changed them every season. Every year Yakov brings me another powerful physical mage to bond with, and I try to make it work. I try to deepen the bond. But the only thing that carries us through the season is both of us being individually powerful on our own.”

“Oh.” Yuuri looks down at the ground, voice quiet while his thoughts are racing. He’s always just assumed that Victor just bonded deeply with his partners, it made the most sense. Most of the mages he’s worked with have gone on to do decently enough, but none get as far as they did with Victor.

Then again, just Victor’s choreography alone is enough to bring a program to the next level, isn’t it? Meaning that even if he could form a bond with Victor…

They might have actually stood a chance.

“I’m sorry I’m like this.” Yuuri’s still not completely sure why Victor came to Japan for Yuuri. His only theory is that Victor came to ruin himself, and yeah, that makes sense, but he also apparently spent enough time researching Yuuri to know that Minako was his first coach. Whatever his intentions were, he wanted a bond that Yuuri can’t and won’t provide. “If I could just— If I could be sure…”

Victor squeezes his hand. “I promised I wouldn’t bring it up again, and I mean it. If you want to talk about it, I… I would love to. But, for right here and now, I’m happy to stay in Hasetsu and taking it day by day with you.”

Yuuri glances up at Victor to find his expression open again, the set of his brow hopeful and earnest.

And Yuuri can’t help but smile in return.

He remembers just hoping to make Victor happy when he decided to let Victor stay, and maybe it’s self-centered to think so, but Yuuri thinks he might have succeeded in that a little.

A calm, thoughtful sort of silence stretches between them as they walk the last couple of blocks, only accompanied by the distant cry of seagulls and the echo of their footsteps on the pavement.

Yuuri thinks he’s starting to appreciate their silences just as much as their conversation. When Yuuri gets to enjoy walking with someone he’s grown to enjoy being around, and Victor’s comfortable enough to not have to fill the space with questions and anecdotes—though that’s nice, too.

Just having Victor here without mageia or competitions being an issue is nice, if Yuuri’s being honest.

They approach the stairs to Minako’s studio and Victor’s hand tightens around Yuuri’s, and he feels bad about it but Yuuri almost laughs.

Minako will probably scowl at Victor, but _Yuuri’s_ the one who hasn’t been here in weeks. He’ll be lucky to make it out alive.

But, regardless, he squeezes Victor’s hand back and pulls him up behind him.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and opens the door.

“I wondered when you’d show up.”

Yuuri nearly jumps out of his skin even though he _knows_ better, Minako knows his magic and has some old spells set up to tell her when one of her students is approaching.

“Minako-sensei,” Yuuri murmurs and bows.

Minako scoffs. “Oh, stand up straight and take your shoes off. That is if you two can separate long enough.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows for a moment before understanding washes over him and he looks down at the fact that he and Victor are still holding hands.

Yuuri lets out a soft squeak before dropping Victor’s hand—and then glances up at Victor, because that was rude as hell. But Victor just grins and shrugs before leaning down and taking off his shoes.

And then Yuuri chances a look at Minako, which is a mistake because she has an eyebrow raised and she’s going to jump to all sorts of conclusions and Yuuri can’t defend himself from any of them without embarrassing himself by even _thinking_ about them in front of Victor

Thankfully, she decides to be lenient for once. “So, what brings you here after avoiding this place like the plague?”

“Um, I’m sorry. I just— It’s been… hard.” Yuuri looks down and makes himself busy taking off his shoes before there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“I know, but you’ve been missed over here, you know.” Minako gives him a lopsided smile before stepping back, giving them room.

“Thank you, I…” He can’t exactly promise to make up for it considering he can’t even properly practice, can he? He clears his throat. “Um, well, Victor wanted to come and see the studio.”

Minako’s eyebrows almost disappear into her hairline. “Oh, did he now?”

Victor puts on one of his charming smiles, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I’d like to apologize for my behavior when I first met you. I was acting under… false assumptions.” Victor’s eyes flick to Yuuri for a moment before he bows deep and—wait, _what_ assumptions? But Victor continues before Yuuri can manage any words, “I’d like a chance to start over again, to do better than I did before.”

Minako waves her hand and rolls her eyes. “Oh, stand up, you’re not impressing anyone with your formalities. Besides, if Yuuri’s going to keep you around and drag you everywhere, then we’ll all have to get used to you regardless.”

Yuuri splutters for a second, his cheeks heating. “Minako-sensei!”

“I’m very happy that Yuuri’s been so generous, but I mean it. I… I had selfish intentions, and I’ve learned my lesson the hard way.” Victor’s voice stays determined, his eyes steel, and it stops all of Yuuri’s protests at Minako’s comments before he can even think of them. “I’d like to prove it, if you’ll let me.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Minako asks as they step into the studio proper, her hands on her hips.

“I’m not sure.” Victor’s smile falls into an expression that’s a bit more honest and something in Yuuri releases and relaxes at the sight of it. “But I’m willing to do whatever you want to prove it.”

“Oh?” A wicked grin spreads across Minako’s face as her eyes flick briefly toward Yuuri, and if he wasn’t anxious before, he sure is _now_. “Then I want you to dance for me.”

Victor freezes for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me.” Minako waves a hand casually as she moves to one of the walls, sitting on a plastic chair she has set aside and crossing her legs. “Your words can be as polite and earnest as you like, but your body? It has to move earnestly, or you’re a terrible dancer. So, dance for me.”

Victor and Yuuri exchange a glance, Yuuri a little helplessly and Victor with eyes wide with surprise. Yuuri doesn’t blame him; he’d expected Minako would probably test him, but he didn’t think it would be an actual test of Victor’s skill.

But as Victor stares at Yuuri, his brow lowers, his mouth sets into a thin line, and the muscle of his jaw tenses before he turns back to Minako with shoulders held high. “Okay. I’ll warn you that I haven’t kept up practice besides some basic exercises from time to time.”

Yuuri just stares as Victor walks into the room and begins to stretch and— _oh_. Somehow, with getting to know Victor as the man he is underneath all of his performances and beyond the illusions of his magic, Yuuri had distanced Victor as he knows him from _Victor_ the athlete.

But even Victor’s form while stretching is powerful and precise, the arc of his body practiced and perfect. And yet it’s still more human than all of the performances that Yuuri’s seen throughout the years, he can see the places that Victor’s started to get a little soft and out of practice in how he moves, his movements themselves ordinary and ones that Yuuri knows well. And yet Victor makes it look like an art form.

“Yuuri! Come over here before you start drooling.” Minako waves a hand in an exasperated movement that she’s probably been making for a while.

All Yuuri catches of Victor’s face is a small smile before he turns his flaming cheeks away and shuffles over to sit next to Minako, pointedly avoiding her snickers.

He wasn’t going to start _drooling_ , and he has no reason to be ashamed of appreciating something beautiful. He wasn’t thinking anything bad, nothing that would cross the tentative relationship they’ve built.

His cheeks seem to think otherwise, though.

“Oh, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” Minako whispers, so quiet that Victor probably doesn’t hear it. “It’s not like he probably doesn’t know. And I saw you two holding hands.”

“It’s not— We’re not like that.” Yuuri shakes his head, considering abandoning both of them and just walking right out the door.

“But you want to be, don’t you?” Minako raises her eyebrows, almost a little incredulous.

 _Does_ Yuuri? He’s never wanted to be that close to someone besides vague inclinations and concepts. There’s never been someone he’s cared about like that. He’d fumbled around with a few people in college, but it didn’t mean anything; Yuuri didn’t even really like it, if he’s being honest.

But Victor…

Yuuri’s still trying to figure it out. He probably won’t be able to get what he wants into clean, easy thoughts until Victor’s long gone. There’s no point in even thinking about it.

Victor clears his throat.

He stands in the middle of the floor, shifting on his feet with a slight show of anxiousness that Yuuri doesn’t normally see from Victor, normally a mask of cool control when he steps into the arena.

“Begin whenever you like.” Minako leans back in her chair, focus completely on Victor. “I can put on music, if you prefer.”

Victor shakes his head. “No, the music for this one hasn’t finished being commissioned, yet. I’ve been working on bits and pieces of this since I got here and… Well, I hope you see why.”

Yuuri blinks. Victor’s been working on something? Well, they spend a lot of time together, but not every second…

Before Yuuri can dive too much into his thoughts though, Victor falls into a pose, head down, arms wrapped almost desperately around himself, and Yuuri’s attention is rapt.

His first movements are small, almost afraid, but graceful nonetheless. It’s almost as if he’s wounded, or hiding, or _something_ , but it almost makes Yuuri want to reach out and say to _stop_ , even though Yuuri knows that Victor was fine just a moment ago. But then Victor’s movements widen and he begins to make use of the studio’s floor, movements fragile, broken. He’s not keeping the emotion to himself anymore, he’s sharing it with everyone, including the audience.

But it’s only Victor on the floor, isolated and alone and in pain. Yuuri wants to get up and reach out to Victor again, but this time for an entirely different reason. The emotion that Victor’s expressing here feels _real_. It’s _raw_. And Yuuri… he recognizes this feeling, and he doesn’t ever want anyone to have to feel it ever.

But he understands that sometimes the only way to get the emotion out is to express it in any way you can, and that performing stories with your entire body and soul is a language that Yuuri and Victor share.

Yuuri can almost see the magic weaving around Victor as his back arches and his arms reach for something he can’t have, his movements expressive enough on his own that Yuuri doesn’t _need_ music to help see the pain and the hurt and the emptiness in his movements.

Which makes it very obvious the moment that it changes.

Victor begins to follow an invisible partner—no, it quickly goes from one to many. His fingers start out tentative, aching as he brushes his fingers against the other people before pulling away, curling in on himself as if afraid of what will come next.

But the pain of before is all but gone, and his reaching out becomes firmer, faster. It almost seems as if he leans on them, as if he’s being carried while he jumps, like there’s a hand taking his when he reaches out. And he lifts them too, the smile coming across his face real and honest, and something Yuuri’s grown comfortable enough to be used to seeing around the onsen, around the town. It’s joyous, celebratory, a harsh but stunning contrast to the emptiness of just moments ago.

With a final flourish, Victor spreads his arms wide, reaching out, embracing, his face fond and knowing.

The opposite of the beginning.

“That was _amazing!_ ” Yuuri barely gasps, his smile so wide that it hurts. He covers his mouth, knowing that he should have waited for Victor to say something, but he couldn’t help it.

“It was certainly something. Rough, but there’s potential.” Minako raps her fingers along her knee, but that’s all Yuuri can see as his eyes stay glued to Victor. But that, coming from Minako and knowing she still doesn’t like Victor, is high praise. “What inspired it?”

“Well…” Victor glances down at the floor, though his smile doesn’t really lessen. “I had been working on two other solo programs for the next season—Eros and Agape—before I came to Hasetsu. But neither were really about me or _for_ me to perform. I was trying to express an emotion, but I hadn’t fully grasped what it meant. But then I came here, and I found a love that rang true to me while I was staying with the Katsuki family and meeting everyone who meant something to them. Storge. Familial love.”

Yuuri sucks in a small breath, his eyes burning as he blinks. He’s enjoyed having Victor around, but it’s felt almost a little selfish of him to have Victor’s time like this. Except… Victor doesn’t see it that way. Yuuri’s parents probably don’t, either, they coo at and praise Vicchan at any given opportunity. Even Mari will throw jabs at him just like she does to Yuuri. He helps out around the onsen, and he sits with them at their meals and…

And Victor mentioned that he never saw his parents much growing up, didn’t he?

Minako, oblivious to the avalanche of thoughts in Yuuri’s head, gives a hum. “And your duet piece?”

Victor’s eyes flick briefly to Yuuri but don’t hint at the thoughts inside his head, and Yuuri’s stomach sinks a little before he even hears the words. “I won’t be having a partner this season, if I even compete at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is another chapter I'm throwing up really quick (I'm trying very hard to focus and not yet out my stomach contents--this has been an ongoing thing but it's VERY BAD rn)! I feel bad I always seem to be feeling bad lately??? But I seriously appreciate everyone out there putting up with me and reading my work, thank you all so much <3


	16. Sixteenth

For a long moment, all Yuuri can do is gape.

It made sense for Yuuri to work solo. He’s never had a strong enough partnership for his duet performances to place in international competitions. His solo performances were what made him one of Japan’s top competitors in mageia, and even then it felt more like luck that he was more comfortable performing on home soil, surrounded by language and culture that was familiar to him, than actual talent.

But Victor hasn’t come away from a solo or a duet performance with anything _but_ gold for years. He wins entire events across the board, constantly. For him not to compete in duets, it’s… He’s shooting himself in the foot, creatively and competitively. You can’t win an event without competing in both categories.

Yuuri may have thought he was being stupid yesterday, but it’s nothing compared to whatever’s going on in Victor’s mind.

Yuuri opens and closes his mouth a few times as he tries to think of what to say, the best thing he comes up with being, “But your duets are stunning!”

Victor gives a shrug, but nothing about it is light. “And so are yours, but you chose to sit out the last season regardless.”

A laugh blurts out of Yuuri’s mouth before he can even think to stop it. “No, I’m better on my own. I proved that last season. Have you seen any of my duets? Literally, any of them. They’re all lackluster at _best_.”

“I’ve seen _all_ of them, and I wouldn’t call them lackluster.” Victor takes a step forward, and even though there’s still space between them, it makes Yuuri feel small on his tiny plastic chair as Victor towers over him. “The issue isn’t you, it was never you. All of your partners were either much newer to the sport, or they were average in the field, and your coach relied on you to carry them. The closest you’ve come to your full potential in a duet was with your friend, Phichit Chulanont, but he had just moved up from Juniors and to the United States, hadn’t he?”

“I…” Yuuri blinks up at Victor, trying to grasp what he’s saying. Yuuri was paired with those people because it made sense. “Phichit had just moved, I guess, but I had those pairings because they were a good match for me. They were my skill level and… and that was all I could handle.”

“No.” Victor places his hands on his hips, breathing still just a touch too quick from his performance. “That’s what your _coach_ told you. Or maybe you told your coach that? If so, he’s a fool for listening to you, because it’s clear you’re one of the best in the field. You deserve to be paired with champions, or at least people that compliment your musicality and skills. You _don’t_ deserve to be someone else’s training wheels, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stutters over a response to that, trying to turn the words over in his mind. Coach Celestino had tested him and paired him with people who fell in a similar ranking in the opposite discipline of magic. It wasn’t like Celestino was going out of his way to hinder Yuuri, he was just doing what was _smart_. But Victor isn’t seeing that.

Yuuri shifts in his chair to turn to the side, looking for reinforcement. “Minako, _please_.”

She shrugs, though her eyes stay stuck on Victor, her brow furrowed. “I hate to admit it, but… He’s right, Yuuri. I’ve never said it to you so bluntly, but I’ve been telling you to bond with better spiritual mages for years.”

A long breath escapes from Yuuri. Because yeah, she’s said things _like_ that. Things like how she was disappointed another one of his pairings didn’t work out, sad that his duet this year was lackluster, how she wished he would do better. And he knew what that meant. That he was letting his partner down, that he could have done better by the both of them.

But that’s not what Minako’s saying now. And his brain keeps finding ways around what this obviously means, but there isn’t. She’s being as clear as Victor is right now, and…

And he can’t even consider it. Because it would change _everything_. If Yuuri really had the potential to do better with a simple change, then he could have been improving all of these years, he might have been able to meet Victor like he’d always distantly dreamed; on the podium, as an equal. Not as a last resort on a path set to destroy his career.

But that’s not even the worst part of it. Yuuri knows he can’t change the past. It’s something he’s been grappling with for months with Vicchan, something he thought he was making progress with. But _if_ he is as impressive as both Minako and Victor seem convinced, and that’s a big _if,_ then that means that he still has all of that potential in him, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. He has the _perfect_ partner right in front of him, wanting to bond with him, and he has to say no. He has to walk away.

And that…

Yuuri doesn’t even know how to begin to deal with that.

“Oh.” Victor’s voice is a little higher than normal. “A-are you crying? Oh no, I didn’t… I don’t know what I said but I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

Yuuri blinks a few times and sure enough, tears drip off his face and fall with big plops onto his pants. He gasps in a shaking breath to try and reassure Victor that everything’s alright, but all that comes out is a broken whine.

“Yuuri.” Minako’s voice rings in Yuuri’s ears above his thoughts, and he can focus on her face in front of him as she sets gentle hands on his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Yuuri just shakes his head. It’s not anything she can fix. It’s not something that anyone can fix.

“I won’t laugh at you,” she says softly—speaking Japanese, now.

And somehow, that makes everything easier. “I-it doesn’t matter what I could or couldn’t do anymore. I _can’t_.”

“Oh, Yuuri.” She moves her hands in soothing motions on his shoulders. “It doesn’t have to be the end. You’re still coming with me when I choreograph, right?”

“It’s not the _same_ ,” Yuuri finally spits out the words, probably with more passion than he ever meant it, but he can’t help it—it’s been building up inside of him for so, so long.

“No, it isn’t.” That’s the nice thing about Minako, she doesn’t ever lie to make him feel better. “But you’ll never have to completely give it up until you’re ready. Besides, maybe you’ll get good enough to choreograph a program for Victor here.”

Yuuri laughs, a real one this time. “He always choreographs his own programs. And I’ve never even done it before. He wouldn’t want _me_.”

“I’d bet you anything he’d take you any way he could get you.” Her eyebrow raises, a clear suggestion to her words.

“ _Minako_ ,” Yuuri hisses, even though he knows that Victor can’t understand them and that there’s now a smile spreading tentatively across Yuuri’s cheeks.

“Oh, don’t you even. I’ll prove it to you.” She smirks before turning around and switching to English, “Hey, Nikiforov!”

“Yes ma’am?” Victor’s voice is strained—tense.

“Don’t start with that, you’ll make me feel older than I am. Besides, I have a request for you.”

“Of course.” Victor’s voice grows a little louder as he steps closer, and Yuuri can only dread the next words out of Minako’s lips with that answer.

“Dance with Yuuri, would you?”

“ _What_?” Yuuri squeaks.

“I…” Victor clears his throat, and Yuuri takes off his glasses to wipe away the salt stains so he doesn’t have to see the expression on Victor’s face as Minako moves away. “Are you sure that’s what he wants? He was just…”

“Yuuri?” Minako smiles knowingly at him as he puts his glasses back on his face. “Do you want to dance with Victor Nikiforov?”

“Of course I do.” The answer’s out of his mouth, blurted and almost indignant, before he can even think about his words. Because being close to Victor means him being close to his splotchy, red, ugly crying face, it means having to be close again after all that.

Minako couldn’t look more pleased if she tried as she hands Yuuri a tissue from who knows where, and he cleans up as best he can with it.

“Oh.” Victor’s voice is soft and gentle, and closer than Yuuri even realized. Victor’s hand is suddenly hovering in Yuuri’s vision before he can even start to protest. “Then I’d love to.”

And how can Yuuri back out now?

Though, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to. He knows exactly what he wants, and it’s not sitting alone and cold in this tiny chair.

He takes Victor’s hand and lets him pull Yuuri to his feet.

They step out toward the center of the studio, back to where Victor had just been standing and… and Victor just keeps hanging onto Yuuri’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Victor murmurs. “I didn’t mean to turn that on you. It just… it was frustrating when I realized it, and I shouldn’t have pushed that much.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “If you don’t want to do duets, I shouldn’t have said that I… You should do what you want, I’m sorry.”

Victor reaches out with his free hand, brushing the hair from Yuuri’s forehead with such gentle fingers that it takes everything in Yuuri to not let his eyes flutter shut.

“I know you care about my career. I should have thought…”

“Are you two going to dance, or are you just going to flirt?” Minako drawls.

Yuuri squeaks a little—but he doesn’t move away.

For his part, Victor just chuckles—which is something that Yuuri’s absolutely setting aside to think about later. Victor pulls his hand away from Yuuri’s face to run down his arm and take his other palm in his own. “What would you like to dance?”

“Um…” Yuuri’s familiar with a lot of styles of dance, something that he’s always been strong at and has relied on to take advantage of in his performances. He’s taken lessons on all sorts of styles, he’s mastered so many moves, but right now his brain is drawing a complete blank as to what he wants to do.

“Stammi Vicino was always meant to be a duet, you know,” Victor murmurs, like it’s a secret that he hasn’t told anyone before.

And Yuuri almost wants to believe that it is. Because that routine means more to him than any of his own, or any of Victor’s others. It was a plea and a prayer of desperation as much as it was his very last, private swan song—but he remembers thinking it was a performance meant to be a duet, a call into the universe that shouldn’t have to go unanswered among the stars and darkness.

And, well. Yuuri’s call was answered, wasn’t it?

“Then show me,” Yuuri dares to whisper, dares to let himself have this.

And Victor gives it over so easily, grinning as if nothing makes him happier.

They move into position almost like a waltz but closer, more intimate, more what the song would call for. Because the song might not ring out in the air, but Yuuri knows that they can both hear it from listening and practicing to it countless times.

And they move.

It’s not the most graceful thing that Yuuri’s ever done, it’s probably worse than his attempt at a solo performance while barely clinging to any semblance of control of his magic, but it’s also perfect in a way that he by himself could never be.

Victor and Yuuri move together like it’s practiced, as if they’ve done it before. Even if they stumble, no toes are stepped on, and the other picks up whatever’s fumbled. Even without the little communication Yuuri’s used to be able to have with his partners through their bond, they communicate well enough through their movements, through their expressions.

Yuuri’s tried not to think about it, but he does miss his bonds. It’s hard not to open himself up and just feel the comforting hum of his family and Phichit there, their thoughts and feelings faint at best, but there. But even that short peek might hurt them, might let the chaos of his own magic seep into them. He’d shut them out the moment that he heard about Vicchan, and he regrets being too afraid to accept their kindness and their love. Now he has to keep himself blocked off from all contact at all times.

It’s empty without them. Lonely. It makes the ache and pain of his magic that much sharper when he lets himself remember how lonesome he truly is.

But now, moving with Victor, his mind is silent of connections, but it doesn’t matter. Because Victor’s body speaks to Yuuri in a way that’s almost intuitive, that he can follow and lead in turn, easily. They start off with few touches besides the practical ones, but as time passes Yuuri finds that they always have a hand on one another. Victor lifts Yuuri from the floor and a laugh bursts from his lips, his smile brighter and truer than would have been possible just moments ago.

When Yuuri lifts Victor, and he can’t get quite the same height with Victor being taller than him and with how out of shape he is, but the grin Victor gives is huge and heart-shaped, and Yuuri feels lighter than he has in months—maybe even years. He wants to spend the rest of his life dancing with Victor. What it would feel like, to have their magics entwined.

No, he can’t have that.

But for the first time, Yuuri finds that maybe he could be okay with this. Victor has a career that he has to get back to, Yuuri doesn’t expect him to stay. But… maybe when he leaves, it doesn’t have to be the end of whatever this is. Maybe if Yuuri choreographs or coaches, he might see Victor from time to time in his travels. Maybe he could lure Victor back to Hasetsu with katsudon and the onsen and his family. Maybe Victor might not mind it if Yuuri went to visit him and Makkachin.

Yuuri can’t have everything in life that he wants. It would be selfish and ridiculous to think that he could.

But this much he can have. This much he’ll grab with both hands and hold on tight until he has no choice but to let go.

They end the routine with any walls and boundaries between them blown down and wrapped up in each other’s arms, Yuuri’s head tucked against Victor’s neck, Victor almost nuzzled into his hair. And Yuuri’s hot, he’s worked a bit of a sweat even if this routine was much, much simpler than the original, and he really should pull away. He’s gross, Victor probably feels gross, too.

But he keeps holding on, clinging tight. Something about crying seems to have cleared out Yuuri’s head a little. The light feels a bit brighter, Victor warmer and more real in his hands, his worries just a little further away than they were before.

“I’m sorry,” Victor murmurs into Yuuri’s hair, the movement of his lips so, so close to his scalp. “I should have done more earlier. I’m terrible with people crying in front of me.”

Yuuri scowls, shifting only just enough so he can talk clearly away from Victor’s skin. “I… I didn’t mean to push. And sometimes things are just too much and… Well, I just cry sometimes. And I don’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

Victor nuzzles a little further into Yuuri’s hair, and for a moment it almost feels as if his lips press there, but Yuuri can’t be sure. “Then I’ll have to get used to it, won’t I?”

Yuuri pulls away from Victor, but not far enough to leave the embrace of his arms. Just enough to meet his eyes, so earnest and blue. “You don’t have to get used to my weaknesses, I’ll try and be better.”

“I think me being terrible about people crying is a worse weakness than crying itself.” Victor gives a shrug, still smiling as if he just can’t get the expression off his face. “There’s nothing wrong with crying. And there’s nothing wrong with you, Yuuri. No matter how you see it, I like you just as you are.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but no words come out. How do you even _respond_ to something like that? Because there’s a lot wrong with Yuuri. So much that he probably couldn’t list everything if he tried. It would take too much time, and the deeper he dug, the more things he would excavate from the darkness of his past.

But Victor likes him as he is, anyway?

How is that even possible?

Except… he’s surrounded by people that want to be around him despite his flaws, isn’t he?

Minako sighs loudly and dramatically. “Are you two done flirting?”

Yuuri jumps, breaking out of Victor’s grasp and immediately regretting it, reaching out to take Victor’s hand before he even thinks about it. And when Yuuri looks at Victor, his smile is incandescent with happiness.

“I’ll take that as a no then.” Minako manages to let out a sigh even more long-suffering than the first. “All right Nikiforov, I’ll tolerate you I suppose.”

Victor tries, and fails, to school his face into a more serious face before he bows his head. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She flaps her hand. “Now, get out so I can have some time before my class gets here. I expect to see you here tomorrow. That routine has potential, and I hate to see you ruin it.”

Victor clutches Yuuri’s hand a little tighter. “I’d appreciate the feedback, thank you.”

“Stop thanking me. Someone needs to keep an eye on you two or you’ll keep terrorizing the town.” Minako gets up and follows them as they walk to the door, leaning against the wall. “Oh, and Yuuri? We have our first choreography job in a few days. I’ll text you the details.”

Yuuri freezes with his hands on his shoelaces, trying to keep his fingers from shaking. He’s not even sure what emotion is running through him at that news, but it’s noisy, and it’s a _lot._

He’s been in limbo for so long he’d started to get comfortable in the space between decision and action. It wasn’t actually _real_ before, he just said a few words and made a commitment for someday, eventually. But it’s finally time.

He has to take his first steps away from being a competitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot thickens ouo
> 
> Things are about the same over here, but I hope all is well on your guys' end <3 Thank you for everyone checking this out, and extra special thanks to everyone who kudos and comments!!! :D


	17. Seventeenth

Victor’s quiet on the walk back. His hand is still in Yuuri’s and there’s still a small smile on his face, but Yuuri had seen that second where his eyes went wide and the lines of his face showed that he was stricken, shocked after Minako said that he’d be leaving to start his next career soon.

But he hasn’t asked about it since.

Maybe he understood why Yuuri was doing this. That it’s the only logical step that Yuuri can take forward, being who he is. Maybe he’s all for Yuuri doing this.

But that doesn’t seem very much like what Yuuri knows of Victor.

It floats to the back of Yuuri’s mind as they get back to Yu-topia, though. It’s been busier since there have been hints of Victor Nikiforov in tiny Hasetsu, and as he’s noticed, Victor’s taken to asking to take a few photos with some guests, Yuuri quietly slipping off to see if he can help with anything while he feels relatively stable.

Afternoon fades to evening, and the evening darkens to night, and the time that passes feels languid, relaxed in a way it can only be after you’ve had a good cry you didn’t even realize that you needed. Victor’s never too far from Yuuri’s reach, just a call away if he needs him, and it’s nice. It’s comfortable.

Until Yuuri’s standing in the hallway between Victor’s room and his own, ready to go to sleep but unsure of where to go. He knows where he _wants_ to go, but he doesn’t want to force Victor into a situation that he wants nothing to do with. He might only say yes out of pity, or obligation, or—

“Yuuri?” Victor pokes his head from his room, Makkachin trotting out to nudge up against Yuuri’s hand and he automatically starts petting her. “Are you coming to bed?”

“Oh.” Yuuri’s brain takes a moment to catch up to Victor’s words, swinging wildly from worrying about assuming too much to finding that Victor was already making his own assumptions.

Victor frowns, eyes wandering down to look at Makkachin. “I’m sorry, if you don’t want to—”

“I want to!” Yuuri blurts, taking a step forward. “But what if I shift in my sleep, and there’s a giant wolf in your bed in the morning?”

Victor raises an eyebrow. ”I think you know how I feel about sleeping with dogs in my bed. Besides, your fur is so soft and silky. I don’t mind.”

Yuuri bites his lip while he takes a moment to look at the floor and try and come up with another excuse, but… he has nothing. “I was just… I was worrying about you not wanting to.”

Victor frowns at him. “Yuuri, I slept better last night than I have in months—years, probably. I would love for you to come and sleep in my bed.”

Yuuri flushes a little. “You— Really?”

“Really.” Victor moves aside, leaving room for Yuuri to walk past him before he smirks. “And you seemed to really enjoy your pillow this morning.”

Yuuri splutters for a long moment before settling on squaring his shoulders and stomping past Victor and into the room, crawling into the middle of the bed and spreading out like a starfish, much to the delight of Makkachin who jumps up and settles between his spread legs, resting her head on his butt. Yuuri can’t help but huff out a laugh.

“Makka has good taste, I see,” Victor says, and before Yuuri can even think to splutter out a response to that, there’s shifting on the bed beside him, and then Victor’s pressed up against Yuuri, lifting his arm and draping it over Yuuri.

Yuuri’s entire body goes stiff. Yes, they shared a bed last night. _Yes_ , Yuuri woke up with his face buried in Victor’s chest and didn’t give a damn about it then. And yes, Yuuri should have seen this coming.

But he didn’t and he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to react. With Mari, they’ve always been around each other since before he could remember. It was months before Yuuri relaxed into a hug from Phichit. His brain just doesn’t know how to process this.

Victor pulls away a bit, turning a little as he tries to scoot away. “Is this all right?”

And Yuuri’s not entirely sure what he thinks yet, but he knows he doesn’t like the space between them. Not just because Victor’s touch is soothing, not just because Victor’s said that he’s lonely—even if not in so many words. But because Yuuri’s finding that he likes to be held when it’s Victor’s arms around him. He likes the way that Victor almost makes him feel _valued_ without saying a word. He likes the fact that he knows he could say no to Victor whenever and he’d back away, like he is right now.

Except Yuuri doesn’t want to say no.

Yuuri turns and wraps his arms around Victor’s waist, tugging him sharply so that his back is pressed to Yuuri’s chest, Yuuri’s face resting right behind the curve of Victor’s neck. Yuuri’s legs are parted weirdly around Makkachin—what kind of horrible person would move a happy dog?—almost like he’s mid-run, having caught Victor in his arms.

“Is this all right?” Yuuri echoes Victor’s question back at him, breathing the words onto the back of his neck as he moves a little closer, lets the heat of Victor’s skin soak through the thin fabric of Yuuri’s nightshirt and envelop him.

A violent shiver wracks through Victor, and Yuuri almost pulls back—but Victor takes hold of Yuuri’s arm and pulls one up so that it’s wrapped around his chest, firmly pinning down all of Victor’s torso to Yuuri.

“It’s perfect,” Victor says, but it’s almost like a gasp.

Yuuri tightens his grip and leans forward so that his forehead rests against the back of Victor’s neck, and Victor _whimpers_. Yuuri doesn’t know what to think of that noise, but Victor doesn’t pull away. In fact, he leans back into Yuuri, eliminating any of the remaining space between them.

This is… new. Different. Yuuri’s never held anything like this, this tightly, with this much… something. He’s not sure what to call it, but it’s a need to be close, to feel Victor’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips to match his own. It’s calming and settling and Yuuri finds himself unable to even think of pulling away.

“Can I ask you something?” Victor’s voice breaks the quiet music of their bodies, startlingly loud despite how softly he speaks.

“Sure,” Yuuri murmurs, eyes focusing a bit more—was he already drifting off?

“I…” Victor trails off, as if unsure of exactly what he wants to say. Yuuri waits him out. “Why are you choreographing with Minako? Are you going to be doing that, now?”

Ah, Yuuri should have known that Victor wouldn’t drop it, not with the expression he’d seen on Victor’s face. He could give the half-hearted answers that he’s given his family and Phichit about it, but… But Victor’s been more honest with Yuuri than he’s had to be about his own career.

Victor deserves to know. Yuuri wants him to.

“I’m not sure it’s what I want to do forever,” Yuuri admits into the safety of Victor’s soft skin, wrapped in the comfort of a cocoon made of bedsheets and quiet. “Minako offered before you came to Hasetsu to take me along on her choreography jobs, and I… I was tired of being depressed. I don’t like sitting still.”

Victor grips Yuuri’s hands and gives them a small squeeze. “I bet you’ll create beautiful programs.”

Yuuri scoffs gently, more of a puff of air against Victor’s skin than anything, and it makes Victor shiver again. Yuuri thinks he might like it a bit when he can get Victor to react like that. “I’ve never choreographed anything before. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You move beautifully, and I don’t believe for a second that Minako hasn’t taught you everything she knows. She’s a quiet force out here in the middle of nowhere, but she has quite a reputation, you know. And you’re her protege.”

Yuuri bites his lip, struggling for a long moment before he spreads his fingers against Victor’s skin, a silent plea that Victor instantly answers by winding their fingers together, and both of them hold on tight.

He wants to deny all of Victor’s confidence in him, to tell him that he’s wrong. That Yuuri isn’t worth any of that confidence—hasn’t he already proved that? To Victor _specifically_ , over and over and over again.

But no matter how many times that happens, Victor still thinks so much of him.

And Yuuri… He wants to live up to that.

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispers. And if his voice cracks, neither of them mentions it.

“Of course, Yuuri. You’re beautiful and brilliant. I can’t wait to see what you do if you decide to go down that path.”

“It’s hard to believe it when you say those things, sometimes.” Yuuri’s voice is the softest it’s been so far, and he half hopes that the noise of it is consumed in the breaths they share and the hum of the silence around them.

But Yuuri’s never been a very lucky person.

“Why?” And Victor doesn’t sound angry, or concerned, just genuinely curious.

“It just… I’m a disaster of a human being. I couldn’t have earned that sort of praise.” Yuuri pauses for a moment, but then he feels Victor’s intake of breath, the protest on his lips, and he rushes to add on, “But it makes me almost believe it when you say things like that, when you _keep_ saying them, even after I mess up.”

Victor’s quiet for a moment, but he shifts enough to be able to move his thumbs in circles on the back of Yuuri’s hands, a reminder that makes Yuuri’s eyes flutter shut, lets him just enjoy the body pressed against him, the soothing touch of Victor’s magic, his soul, almost enveloping Yuuri.

“Then I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”

The words wash over Yuuri, another wave in the ocean that he’s slipping into, the final crash over his head as he lets himself sink toward the warm comfort of darkness. He shifts the calf he has up against Victor so it slides between his legs, and Yuuri’s just aware enough to feel the last of the tension leave Victor’s body, like he needed just _that much_ more contact but didn’t ask for it.

But Yuuri wants to give him this. This is easy. It’s nice. He feels like this should be awkward and uncomfortable, and he’s never been quite like _this_ with anyone else before. But it feels natural. It feels like he should have been doing this all along.

Again, Yuuri wishes they could bond, but this time it’s for a different reason. It wouldn’t really change anything, but he wishes that he could reach out and brush Victor’s thoughts with the warmth he feels, that he could let Victor be wrapped up in that. Because Victor craves this. Yuuri’s not sure Victor will ever admit it, but Yuuri’s intimately familiar with desperation.

Yuuri never thought that he would find it in someone like Victor Nikiforov, but that makes it all the more precious to him.

Trusting someone with your weaknesses is something that Yuuri’s never had the privilege to be able to choose. Yuuri’s weaknesses are written on obvious places, practically tattooed onto his skin.

But Victor’s learned how to hide his. He doesn’t have to show them to anyone.

He still chooses to share them with Yuuri.

Yuuri doesn’t know exactly what that means, and he’s not sure that he ever will. But he values every scrap of Victor that he uncovers, like it’s something precious and fragile and beautiful—regardless of whether Victor himself would consider it a flaw or strength.

It’s still _Victor_ , and that’s all that matters to Yuuri.

As he drifts off to sleep, Yuuri holds Victor as tightly as he can.

__________

When they wake in the morning, they’re more a single knot of limbs and skin than two separate people. And this time, Victor’s the one that Yuuri ends up having to drag from bed, still clinging to Yuuri as they head down for breakfast.

Mari raises her eyebrows as they settle down and Victor whines into Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri just glares right back at her because _no_ , they didn’t just “bang already.”

If he didn’t blush at the implication it probably would’ve been more convincing, though.

He doesn’t lounge around the onsen, and he doesn’t let Victor, either, even though he seems to want to. Because if they’re too late showing up to Minako’s they’ll _both_ pay.

And now that Yuuri’s showed his face at her studio again, he knows that she expects him there.

Expects _both_ of them there.

Not that them getting there before noon ends up changing much of her treatment of them that day. Or the next day, or the next day. At the end of their training sessions with Minako, both of them barely have the energy to crawl back to the onsen for a soak and a meal before passing out on one another. Yuuri’s pretty sure his parents know that he hasn’t been sleeping in his own room after a couple of days, and that’s only confirmed when his mom barges in one morning to say they need help in the onsen and doesn’t bat an eye at the two of them.

Yuuri’s not sure if he’s comforted by that fact, or if it would be more convenient to go crawl in a hole and never come out again.

Not that Phichit would let him. Yuuri’s not sure how Phichit got him to spill about sleeping in the same bed with Victor, but Phichit is _living_ on the information that Yuuri’s passing along. Yuuri’s tight-lipped on Victor’s plans to go solo—it isn’t his news to share, after all—but he loves to drive Phichit up the wall with vague little tidbits about the solo performance that Victor’s working on.

Or, well, kind of working on. Victor hasn’t once set foot inside of the arena since they’d gone together that one time.

It’s not like Yuuri’s one to judge, though. He’s only been texting with Yuuko since he’d visited, cleanly avoiding any invitations to come over by saying he’s busy with Victor and Minako and the onsen. And it’s not exactly a lie—even as they both get more in shape, the onsen gets a little busier with the weather and newfound name recognition, and all hands are needed whenever they’re available.

When Yuuri thinks about it, it sounds like a boring life. But walking through Hasetsu with Victor and Makkachin getting excited over every dog they see, Victor still gasping and exclaiming about new things as he tries desperately to understand the language and culture, seeing Victor and his mom drinking together, Victor and his father cooking, Victor and Mari just chatting and laughing…

For once, Yuuri doesn’t mind so much that he can’t compete in mageia. He still wants to, he still aches whenever Phichit mentions his training, but… It’s okay. Yuuri can deal with this.

Minako keeps him up to date on her choreography contact, and the hours and days slipby until it’s time for him to head off with her to the train station to take the long trip before they take a few days to assess the mage’s talents and come back to Hasetsu to choreograph and work out the magical aspects.

“You don’t need to stay here,” Yuuri murmurs, trying and failing not to tug at the hem on his shirt as they wait by the train tracks. They’re early, still a couple of trains to pass before theirs, but Minako’s always taught him to be prompt and ahead of time for _everything_. She stands a little ways off, saying she couldn’t stand their “sappy bullshit.”

A hand reaches out to Yuuri, and it’s so familiar and comforting to take it back that Yuuri doesn’t even think about it.

“Where else would I go?”

Yuuri looks up to meet Victor’s eyes, and it really shouldn’t be surprising to find a small but earnest smile on Victor’s face, but it still makes Yuuri’s heart beat a little bit faster. “To somewhere with better training facilities, with a better coach, where you can actually get what you need?”

Victor shakes his head a little. “Yuuri, all I need is right here.”

Yuuri’s cheeks burn a little at that. “But— There are better places than Hasetsu.”

“Not for me!” Victor chirps. “Besides just the thought of only having our phones the next few days to talk to each other on sounds… Well, awful. I don’t think I want to go longer than that.”

Yuuri grips Victor’s hand a little tighter. He doesn’t want to sleep alone. He can, he knows he can. But there’s something about the sound of another heartbeat in his ear and the silly little whistle that Victor tends to get in his nose that helps settle him.

“I…” Yuuri clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Good! Now that that’s settled…” Victor pauses as another train comes in—but not the one for Yuuri and Minako, not yet. “You’re going to call when you get there to let me know you’re safe?”

Yuuri laughs. “Only if you send me pictures of Makka during the ride.” It’s a shame they don’t allow dogs up near the tracks, but Yuuri gets it.

Victor clutches at his heart. “You think I _wouldn’t_?”

“Well, I think that you have the memory of a…” A sound jars Yuuri out of his thoughts, something unusual, and something getting closer and closer. Something like… stomping. Yuuri frowns, peering around Victor.

And when Yuuri sees the figure that the sound belongs to, his jaw nearly drops.

“ _You_!” Plisetsky growls, making Victor turn around, tugging Yuuri forward to stand next to him.

Yuuri nearly jumps out of his skin, his face paling a little as he remembers this kid—kicking down a bathroom door and berating Yuuri after he’d just lost a competition and his _dog_.

To be fair, Plisetsky couldn’t have known about the latter, but what kind of kid throws words like knives at a crying man?

“Oh!” Victor’s mouth stretches into a smile so strained that Yuuri winces at the sight of it. Come to think of it, it looks like a few of the smiles on the posters that are still up in his room. He should really take those down. “Yura! What are you doing here?”

“Don’t try and _Yura_ me.” Plisetsky stomps forward, jabbing a finger at Victor’s chest with such violence that Yuuri’s almost afraid Victor might actually get stabbed by it. “You know _exactly_ what you did. What are _you_ doing with this fucking loser who can’t even hold himself together long enough to not look like a circus attraction?”

Yuuri’s familiar ears flick back, laying low on his head and betraying the way that his eyes sting even if he stands his ground. He knows what he looks like, the words of some kid shouldn’t matter.

But it _hurts_. It stabs right into that aching hole that Victor and Yuuri’s family have slowly been helping to sew up.

He’ll never escape reality though, will he?

Victor pushes away Plisetsky’s hand, eyes _burning_ with an emotion that Yuuri can’t quite grasp. “You will _not_ speak of him that way.”

“Oh, says the man who breaks all of his promises.” Plistesky steps closer to them, puffing out his chest as if that makes the skinny kid look any bigger.

Victor’s expression shifts, a frown spreading across his lips. “What are you talking about?”

Plisetsky bares his teeth like he’s more animal than human—and maybe he is. “You said that if I won Junior Worlds—which I _did,_ not that your forgetful ass would remember—that you would partner with me for my duet for my first year in Seniors!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't murder me! Pls!!!
> 
> Okay, okay, I'm posting this really quick before I have to run off! On the bright(?) side, my health problems have gotten worse and it's bad enough that my new doctor's office will be doing something about it sooner, so hopefully I'll start making progress with that! As always, thank you all so, so, SO much for reading, and I hope you're holding up as best as you can on your side of the screen! <3


	18. Eighteenth

The world drops out from underneath Yuuri’s feet before he can even fully process Plisetsky’s words.

He’d thought he’d reached something stable in his life. Something that seemed a lot like happiness. It felt unreal, like living in a dream.

It makes sense that it would all shatter so easily.

Victor said he wouldn’t do a duet performance this year, he’d _just_ implied that he wanted to stay in Hasetsu even if he _did_ compete—and from his complete disinterest in anything to do with the arena, Yuuri has no doubt that there’s a pretty big chance that Victor won’t even compete this year. He has time to refine everything within the arena, though. Minako and Yuuri are heading out to do choreographing for someone else today, even, and if anyone could pull off waiting even longer it’d be Victor Nikiforov…

Yuuri was being too hopeful.

He knows better than to think his life _ever_ turns out this well. The last time he thought he was doing okay, he ended up getting a call that his childhood pet and the best friend he’d ever had died.

It makes sense that Victor would get taken from him, too.

“I have no recollection of promising you that.” Victor crosses his arms, jaw tense. “I hadn’t made any commitments to this season yet.”

“Yeah, you piece of shit. Yakov and I assumed that it was because you actually _remembered_ , but apparently that was too good to be true!” Plisetsky snaps, stomping a foot on the ground as he leans into Victor’s space. “You can’t just abandon all of your commitments for a piece of ass you’re having fun chasing.”

Yuuri pales slightly, stomach churning. Victor wouldn’t… But he _had_ been flirting that entire time he first came here. Yuuri had assumed that he’d been misreading it, but if he hadn’t?

If he hadn’t, then Victor hasn’t tried to make a move like that since then. Yuuri’s literally been _sleeping in his bed_ , and Victor hasn’t pushed. The touches they share do feel… _intimate_. But it’s not in a way that makes Yuuri think that anything’s being demanded from him, not even asked of him. Yuuri sets a boundary, and Victor never hesitates to meet him there, to learn what Yuuri needs.

But that seed of doubt _eats_ at Yuuri, even as he knows it doesn’t sound at all like what he knows of Victor.

“Don’t talk about Yuuri like he isn’t here.” Victor clutches Yuuri’s hand tighter, almost unconsciously, as if reaching for support.

And Yuuri squeezes back just as easily.

“What have _you_ done to earn me talking to you?” Plisetsky’s green eyes flick toward Yuuri, the pupils slightly slitted—almost losing control.

Even a fifteen-year-old has better control of his shifting than Yuuri does.

“I…” Yuuri swallows, glancing down at the ground. He’s done nothing to deserve _anything_ , which is why everything’s crashing down around him like this. He can’t have what he doesn’t deserve, and he’s never deserved any kindness.

“Exactly.” Plisetsky snarls. “You’re still a disgrace to our name. You’re a disgrace to all physical mages in general. You fucking fall from grace in flames—wait, no, not even flames! You can’t even summon up a goddamn flicker of _any_ element. And then you run away, hide yourself, and only come out to lure _my_ partner away from me. Newsflash asshole, he’s already claimed. _You can’t have him_.”

“I am _not_ a piece of property, Yura.” Victor snaps. “If Yakov remembers too, then maybe I made a promise. But how long ago was that? How much has changed? Wouldn’t you rather pair up with someone who would compliment you better?”

“I don’t give a shit about complimenting anything.” Plisetsky scoffs. “I care about _winning_. And you obviously don’t. Look at how broken this scumbag is. He can’t even hold it together long enough to be in public without looking like some monster that belongs under the bed!”

“ _Yura_ —”

“ _Don’t call me that_!”

“Stop it!” Yuuri’s voice cracks as he cries out, and flinches as he lets his head hang, his fallen bangs hiding how he squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, stop.”

Yuuri takes a few deep breaths, magic trembling inside of him as he barely holds himself together. He’s already proved Plisetsky right, he doesn’t need to give the kid more ammunition to use against him.

He braces himself as he opens his mouth. “I’m not worth fighting over. I-I knew this was temporary. I understand that you had a commitment, Victor. I don’t expect you to stay just for me, not when… not when you’re _you_.”

Plisetsky snorts. “Good to see he knows his own worth.”

“No.” Victor’s voice trembles slightly and Yuuri looks up at him.

His lips are pressed into a line, and his jaw is still tense, but his eyes are wide and shining.

“ _No_ ,” he repeats, bringing Yuuri’s hand up to his chest, gently tugging Yuuri closer. “Maybe I made a promise to him, but I made a promise to you, too. Ever since Sochi, I—”

“What’s happening here?”

Yuuri swivels around to catch sight of Minako, and he’s never been more happy to see her in his _life_. No way that he wants to talk about Sochi. His life is already crashing around him, he doesn’t need to remember the last time this happened, too.

“Who are _you_?” Plisetsky growls, like a kitten getting protective of his territory. It would almost be cute if Yuuri weren’t feeling so hollow and aching inside, each breath taking a little more effort than the last.

“You know who she is,” Victor hisses. “You’ve heard Yakov talk about her countless times.”

Plisetsky’s eyes bulge a little. “O-Okukawa Minako?””

She places her hands on her hips. “Yes, and if you don’t show some damn _respect_ , all of this is getting back to Yakov. Are we understood?”

“I— Yes, ma’am.” Plisetsky spits out the words like it’s a curse.

And when it’s coming from a brat like this, Minako doesn’t correct him on his use of “ma’am” like she did Victor.

Even as much as Victor irritates her at times, she’s pretty fond of him. She’s just more worried about Yuuri. Besides, she’s been more helpful than teasing with her words when they go to practice in her studio.

“Better.” Minako scowls at him. “Now, one of you explain the situation.”

A moment of silence spreads between the three of them, and Yuuri doesn’t want to break it.

But he _has_ to.

“Victor has to leave,” Yuuri murmurs.

“ _What_?” Minako snaps.

“I do _not_ ,” Victor growls, harsh enough that it makes Yuuri pull away, stepping toward Minako.

“Yes, you fucking do!” Plisetsky butts in. “Yakov expects you back in Russia within a week. It’s time to get to work on this season. You need to stop being so _selfish_ and come home.”

“I _can’t_ go back.” Victor snaps, voice strained. “I’m not a citizen of Russia anymore.”

“ _What_?” Plisetsky almost screams the word, so loud that it echoes in Yuuri’s eardrums—or maybe it’s just Yuuri’s own thoughts.

He remembered that Victor had told him he applied for citizenship. He remembers Victor saying how the JMF paid for the RMF to hand him over.

And now he’s considering not even competing?

He— He really did this all for Yuuri? It definitely means that Plisetsky’s assumptions are wrong, because to _change nationality_ to compete with someone is no small decision. It’s commitment.

This doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense. Victor is easily excited, but he’s not impulsive. Most nights he lays out his clothes for the next morning. He likes to plan his days from beginning to end. He has a schedule for Makkachin’s care—and maybe there are a lot of time slots for cuddling, but the point is that he _sticks_ to it.

Victor wouldn’t just impulsively decide to switch citizenship and federations.

In fact, for him to be so far along… Was he already in the process of this before the video with Yuuri was released?

No. They haven’t even talked before now. There has to be something else going on. Something bigger.

But what?

“Well, it sounds like you two have a lot to work out.” Minako’s eyes shift between the lot of them, lingering the longest on Yuuri. “And Yuuri and I both have to leave, anyway. That’s our train.”

Yuuri jumps, glancing at the tracks and, sure enough, there’s a train there.

He didn’t even hear it come in. His ears are ringing. His skin is _crawling_.

A hand lands on Yuuri’s shoulder, so gentle and familiar that he doesn’t even startle.

“Yuuri.”

It’s incredibly different how Victor says _his_ name as opposed to how Yuuri remembers hearing him say Plisetsky’s name that one time, in Sochi. It’s only natural to turn toward Victor when he says Yuuri’s name like that, a sunflower turning toward a hint of the sun.

“I’ll be here when you get back.” Victor’s eyes search Yuuri’s, frantically flicking around for whatever he’s trying to find. “And I promised you Makkachin pictures in the meantime, yes?”

“Victor, if… If you need to go, or work things out, or…” Yuuri swallows. “You made a promise.”

“And I’ve made promises to you, too.” Victor steadies a little, his grip tightening just a bit. Yuuri almost wishes it was more, wishes he had a bruise to prove that Victor was there, that none of this is some wild fantasy. “I’ll be breaking a promise either way.”

“But…” Yuuri glances away, his throat tightening around the heat of tears threating to spill over. He can’t take this. He can’t know that Victor has somewhere else to be and Yuuri’s keeping him here. He doesn’t want Victor to move on—but he doesn’t want Victor to suffer, either. He doesn’t want Victor to throw his career down the drain because— because of what, even? Because he promised to stay in Hasetsu because of Yuuri?

The biggest hurdle would be getting Victor back to Russia as a citizen, but between the lot of them, they’d figure something out. They have to.

“I’ll be here,” Victor’s voice is barely a whisper. “I’ll be waiting.”

And suddenly Victor’s hand is gone, and a whimper escapes Yuuri’s mouth before he can think about it, ears flicking back as shame burns through him—

And then Victor’s arms are around Yuuri, holding him tight to his chest, clinging to him. Yuuri takes a shaking breath before reaching out and grabbing fistfuls of the back of Victor’s shirt, burying his face into his chest. He presses as close as he can to the heat of Victor, to the soothing touch of his magic, as if trying to absorb as much as he can before he has to go.

Why did Yuuri think this was a smart idea again? He doesn’t know how much time he has left with Victor, and now it seems like the precious little bubble that they had been hiding in, full of comfort and touch, has popped to let the real world in, to let the tides of life slowly but surely tear them apart.

“Don’t give up on me, please.” Victor’s voice is rough in Yuuri’s ear, making his familiar ear twitch. Victor gives a soft huff of laughter at the sensation. “I know I haven’t been going about this right. I know you’re afraid, and you don’t want to accept it all yet. And I don’t mind. The time I’ve spent here… I don’t know if it would have been the same if you’d just let me in. I don’t want to push you, but _please_. Don’t give up on this.”

Yuuri blinks a few times before gripping Victor even tighter. He’s not exactly sure what it is between them that they’ve been building, slow and steady. He’s not sure there’s even a word for it, for _them_. But he doesn’t _want_ to give up, he just…

He needs to think.

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri pulls back enough to see Victor’s face again. “You’ll stay? You’ll be here when I come back?”

Victor nods. “I would stand here the entire time if I could.”

A shaky smile spreads across Yuuri’s face. “You’re ridiculous.”

Victor laughs, and it sounds more watery than it should. “I am! But I mean it. _Please_.”

“I don’t want to give up on anything,” Yuuri murmurs, and it’s the closest thing to the truth that Yuuri can manage.

“That’s all I ask.” Victor murmurs before he leans forward and— _oh_.

He presses his lips to Yuuri’s forehead, and Yuuri’s eyes flutter shut, his breath catching in his throat.

“Yuuri!” Minako’s voice cuts through the moment, making Victor pull away. “We have to go.”

“I’ll be here,” Victor promises again, eye’s pleading.

“I know.” And Yuuri does know. He does believe that Victor will be here when Yuuri gets back.

He just doesn’t know if Victor _should_ be waiting. Not for Yuuri.

But he still pulls away and grabs his luggage, running onto the train as the doors shut behind him.

He turns, meeting Victor’s eyes through the glass, even as he’s pretty sure that Plisetsky is screaming at Victor. He can faintly hear the kid’s voice, even.

But Victor’s attention is unwavering. Desperate.

It almost makes Yuuri feel guilty that Victor’s looking at _him_ like that, but he can’t look away. He wouldn’t look away if he could. But soon the train is moving, and he’s asked to move, and there’s no point in standing there when he can’t even see Victor anymore. He wanders until he finds Minako, storing his small amount of luggage and taking a seat.

“How are you holding up?”

Yuuri blinks at Minako, opening his mouth to give an immediate, “Fine,” to let her relax and not have to worry about him, but this isn’t Celestino. He could handle Yuuri’s emotions, but he didn’t know how to cope with Yuuri’s particularly bad anxiety, and Yuuri doesn’t blame him. He’s not a bad man, regardless of what Victor thinks. He cared a lot about Yuuri. He taught Yuuri _so much_.

But this is Minako. She’d only worry more if Yuuri lied to her, she knows him too well. There’s no escaping from her questions or her concern—that’s why he’d avoided her for so long.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri admits, clasping his hands in front of him and staring at them.

“What are you going to do about it?” She asks it so matter of fact, like the answer’s right in front of him.

Yuuri gives a short laugh. Well, it probably is, isn’t it? “Plisetsky is a better mage than I ever was, even just coming off of juniors. He’s arrogant, and such a teenager, but he can bond with Victor. I can’t.”

“Victor told you he didn’t want to do duets this year.” Minako’s voice lowers, as if anyone would know what they were talking about.

“He did, but… What is Hasetsu going to do for his career?” Yuuri looks up, meeting Minako’s eyes. “I don’t want to hold him back. I _won’t_.”

Minako frowns at him for a long moment, obviously thinking. Yuuri doesn’t even dare hope that their conversation is over, but he wishes it were. He wishes he could just close his eyes and lean against the window and let the vibrations rattle any thoughts that he has left in his head.

He wants to go back in time to this morning, when things were simple. Where neither Yuuri or Victor admitted that they were quietly dreading the nights of an empty bed ahead of them, but still stayed under the sheets until they couldn’t put off rising any longer. They whispered to each other about silly things, stories and thoughts and whatever else their conversation wandered into, speaking so softly as if they were were afraid that noise would ruin the comfort and safety of the moment.

No. It would be a small, angry teenager that did that.

“Has he told you that he wants to leave?” Minako raises an eyebrow.

Yuuri shakes his head. “No. But… You know what it’s like to retire, to fade away into nothing. I don’t want that for someone like Victor.”

Minako leans forward, placing her hand on top of Yuuri’s. “There’s a difference between what you went through, what I decided to do, and the choice that Victor’s making. We were forced by our bodies to stop doing what we love. But Victor… Victor’s not being forced.”

“Isn’t he?” Yuuri bites out. “He doesn’t have citizenship in his home country anymore. He has no coach, no prospects.”

Minako scoffs. “What, and I count for nothing?”

Yuuri narrows his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“Fine.” Minako leans back into her seat, glancing out the window. “Then tell me how often he talks about using magic, or performing, or missing _anything_ about it?”

“I…” Yuuri wracks his brain, but Victor doesn’t talk about it that much, not unless it’s Yuuri’s career. He doesn’t go to the arena, and Yuuri hasn’t even seen a _hint_ of his wings, despite having hoping for a glimpse this entire time.

“Remember when we thought he came here to self-destruct?” Minako shoots him a wry grin. “Maybe he found an alternative.”

“Maybe,” Yuuri admits, even if the word feels like ash on his tongue.

But why would Victor be working so hard on Storge if he didn’t want to perform? Why would he have _actually_ transferred his citizenship if he didn’t plan on training and competing for Japan?

None of it makes any sense.

Yuuri leans his head against the window, trying to lose himself in the countryside and the movement of the train.

He doesn’t succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, just bear with me on all the citizenship garbage because I know it’s unrealistic and I try to do my best to not do this, but you know what. I’m pulling my fanfic card out. I need Victor to compete for Japan, I’M SORRY.
> 
> I hope all of you are doing okay out three! <3 Thank you all so, so much for reading and checking this fic out--I swear you guys are what keep me going sometimes :D <3


	19. Ninteenth

Victor makes good on his promise, at least. The country passing by doesn’t distract Yuuri, but the flood of Makkachin pictures do. Victor follows Makka through the house as she looks for Yuuri—at least that’s what Victor insists Makka’s doing—and chronicles her progress with detailed messages. Eventually, she settles in the guest area, lounging on her back in what Victor calls, “Doggy yoga! Isn’t she so cute?”

Yuuri, of course, agrees while giving his phone a small smile.

Things go quiet intermittently after that. Yuuri can guess what’s going on. He doesn’t ask. Victor doesn’t bring it up.

Neither of them even mention Plisetsky.

Yuuri both wants to know everything and nothing at all. He can only assume that he’s going back to the onsen with Victor, but where will he stay? Will he be just as rude to Yuuri’s family? Will Yuuri’s mom adopt him into the household as easily as she did Victor?

Something ugly and burning and dark rises in Yuuri, even as he squirms with how uncomfortable it makes him.

He doesn’t want to be replaced by Plisetsky.

Which is ridiculous. Of course this kid won’t replace him, Yuuri’s parents raised him, Mari cares about him, and Victor doing what he and Yuuri do together with a kid is just inappropriate—though what does that say about Yuuri and Victor?

No rational logic stops his mind from letting Plisetsky fill the space he left, though. Victor might have promised to wait for Yuuri, but maybe he’ll remember whatever promise he made in front of his coach and to his rink mate and know he can’t let them down.

Yuuri could just text Victor, ask him what’s going on, what he’s thinking. But what right does he have? They sleep in the same bed, and they train together. That’s their relationship. No labels, no anything. And Yuuri doesn’t want to tie Victor down with anything like that because he’s a useless mess of a human being and no one deserves to be linked with that.

Which makes his jealousy even more ridiculous.

Yuuri wishes that he could just open up his own mind and scrape these thoughts and worries out, forget about everything going on until he can deal with it. But unfortunately, he’s stuck with myself and everything that entails.

By the time the train comes to their destination, Yuuri’s dead on his feet. All he wants to do is lie down on a horizontal surface and pass out.

But he can’t.

Minako and Yuuri go to check into their hotel lodgings, a tiny little room with two twin beds, and they barely spend enough time there to drop off their stuff and for Yuuri to stare longingly at the sheets before they’re off again to the arena.

It’s a larger complex than Hasetsu’s arena, but that’s no surprise. It’s newer too, the wear and tear of time much less obvious in the lobby.

A woman walks up to them, presumably the coach of the mage that they’re here to choreograph for. They exchange formalities and greetings, following social protocol until Yuuri tries to introduce himself.

“Oh, I know who you are.” The coach—Odagaki, she said—smiles, amusement glinting in her eyes. “Minami is going to be _thrilled_ to see you. It’s a wonderful coincidence that you’re here—you’ll see why in a moment.”

They follow her into the arena at large, a few mages inside—a small class of young ones, and some older mages practicing individually.

Yuuri walks up to the boards without paying any attention to the ground beneath his feet, his eyes drawn to the closest mage. He’s running through a simple control exercise, raising earth, shaping it into something specific, and then flattening it before starting anew. Not many mages enjoy those sorts of exercises, but Yuuri loves it. He loves the simple control of taking anything in his imagination, making it a reality, and then undoing it, all within a moment.

“Minami!” Odagaki calls next to Yuuri, startling him out of watching—staring, really.

The mage that Yuuri was looking at turns toward them, a mop of blonde hair with a flash of red and wide, brown eyes that only get wider when he sees his coach’s entourage.

He looks vaguely familiar, but Yuuri supposes he’s seen a lot of mages at Nationals and other competitions. He’ll research other mages going into competitions sometimes, but Yuuri mostly keeps his head low—the more he focuses on others, the more worried about himself he gets.

Odagaki has to yell for Minami again to get the kid springing into action, scrambling across the wide arena and almost barreling into the boards before he backs away and bows way too deeply to be greeting his choreographer.

Minako and Yuuri exchange a look.

“Minami, considering what you told me about your solo routine, I thought Minako-sensei would be the best choice for choreography.” Odagaki grins at Minami as he stands up, and… his cheeks are red? “And look who she brought along!”

“K-Katsuki-kun!” Minami squeaks, giving another quick bow. “It’s an honor to meet you!”

Yuuri’s insides squirm, and he wishes he could just sink to the ground and crawl away from this situation. It wasn’t long ago that Plisetsky was shoving all of Yuuri’s _very_ obvious flaws in his face, and it makes this praise feel like scrubbing salt into a fresh would.

Luckily, Minami continues before Yuuri has to think of a response.

“I was looking forward to facing you at Nationals! But…” Minami trails off, eyes flicking up to Yuuri’s ears. “Do you think you’ll be competing this year?”

“No.” Yuuri’s response is more clipped than he means it, and he glances away. “I… I’m afraid not.”

“ _Oh_.” Minami’s shoulders fall a little. “I… You’re the reason I got into mageia, you know.”

“ _Me_?” Yuuri recoils.

“Yes, you!” Minami chirps, either unaware of Yuuri’s tone or ignoring it completely. “I’m a hybrid mage, and I’ve always loved performing and mageia, but I thought I couldn’t get anywhere—until I saw you! The best of Japan, and you can only partially transform! And if _you_ can do it with less magic than the other physical mages, _I_ can do it with my magic split.”

“I… I’ve barely made it internationally.” Yuuri blinks, trying to wrap his mind around this. He knows he has fans out there, he’s seen signs when he performs, Phichit used to love to troll forums and Tumblr and show him the best memes that people have made of Yuuri. But this? It’s too much.

“You’re the _best_ mage in the sport!” Minami slams his palm on the boards, leaning closer. “Your programs are stunning, you make even the most lackluster choreography shine, the story rings true in every heart that sees it! This year I’m designing my solo program as a tribute to one of yours, Lohengrin. Right now I’m the same age as you when you first performed it!”

Yuuri winces. Lohengrin was the last program that Minako choreographed for him before he moved to Detroit. It was… incredibly dramatic and over the top, a farewell to juniors and Hasetsu and the life that he’d known.

He didn’t do well in competitions with it.

“Ah, a program from my dark past,” Yuuri mutters, grimacing. He’d been so excited to make a change, to move _forward_ , and then he disappointed everyone with his last season in juniors, getting some of his lowest scores.

Not that the move to Detroit really did much for him, in the end. He was always a weak mage.

“You don’t have a dark past!” Minami snaps, the cheer breaking as his eyes begin to shine with tears. “Don’t make fun of me for looking up to you for so long and trying to catch up to you!”

“There’s not much to catch up to.” Yuuri takes a step back, his magic grating inside him, everything stinging and harsh. He can’t— He won’t do this. He needs to go.

“Yes there _is_!” Minami jabs a finger out at Yuuri. “I’ll show you how beautiful your program is to me! I’ll show you how much you’ve inspired the world, and I’ll _win_ with it! Just you _watch_ , Katsuki-kun.”

Yuuri’s breaths come a little too quickly, the edges of his vision fading, going dark. Fur blooms along the back of his hands, and he—

He can’t _take_ this.

“I need some air,” Yuuri gasps before turning and walking as fast as he can back toward where they came from, bursting out the doors of the complex. He strides along the front of the building and makes it around the corner, into an alley, before he slides down the wall and puts his head between his knees. He tries to breathe as his familiar ears come and go on his head, his teeth sharp enough to cut through his lip when he bites it.

His mind swims. Plisetsky and Minami’s yelling rings in his ears as his heart pounds.

Yuuri didn’t think that Plisetsky was wrong in his accusations earlier, but Minami was so passionate and believed with absolute confidence the opposite. It’s not like the world doesn’t know exactly what’s going on with Yuuri at this point.

And yet Minami wanted to know if Yuuri would be competing, despite that.

He _hoped_ that Yuuri would be competing.

And who wants that? Who earnestly and truly wants Yuuri to get back into the arena to compete when everything he’s ever done has been lackluster and forgettable?

Victor does.

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat at the thought, his mind going silent for just a second.

Yuuri thought that Victor was here to just use Yuuri at first, and Yuuri can be very, _very_ dense. But he sees how Victor looks at Yuuri when he doesn’t think Yuuri can see, his eyes in the mirrors of Minako’s studio tracing his every movement as if there’s nothing in the world that could tear away his attention at that moment.

Sometimes Yuuri thinks that Victor really does think that a bond between them might heal Yuuri. And Yuuri’s honestly beginning to believe it too, just a little. He wants to feel Victor’s magic mingling with his own, the soothing touch of it, the comfort of him.

Yuuri wishes Victor was here. Victor knows how to handle fans. Victor could give Yuuri a hug right now. Yuuri doesn’t always want a hug when he’s like this—but right now he _craves_ it.

“There you are.”

Yuuri’s head pops up, blinking a few times to adjust to the light—though it’s very dim. Sunset?

How long has Yuuri been sitting here? His neck does hurt, and his knees are sore…

“I’ve been calling you for a while, you know,” Minako raises an eyebrow at him, cocking her hip.

“I— Sorry,” Yuuri mutters, voice rough.

Minako just hums. “Come on. I got our work done for today, let’s head back.”

Yuuri hesitates, but then nods, getting up even as the guilt weighs him down. He’s supposed to be helping Minako, not having dramatic fits and storming out of the building.

He’ll have to do better tomorrow.

The walk back to the hotel is silent, and so is dinner. and settling into bed, with very few words between the two of them. Minako’s obviously thinking about something, and Yuuri leaves her to it, his own thoughts running in circles around each other, forming a tangled knot that keeps growing and growing as he lays in bed and stares at the ceiling.

Every time he closes his eyes, it just makes the thoughts louder. Maybe he should go for a walk. Maybe the hotel has an empty room that he can turn into a makeshift studio.

All he knows is that he’s not sleeping tonight.

His phone vibrates on the nightstand, startling him as it lights up and illuminates the ceiling that Yuuri’s been making a map of.

**Victor** :

Are you awake?

Yuuri spends a long moment just looking at his phone his emotions rising up and choking together in his throat. He wants Victor. He wants to text back, to reach out to him in any way possible.

But if Victor’s going to leave and fly back to Russia where Yuuri can’t have him anymore, maybe he should get used to Victor being gone.

And yet… Yuuri can’t put down his phone. The screen goes dark, the room going completely black around him, and yet Yuuri still stares into the shadows where he knows his phone lurks.

He hates this.

He hates not knowing if he should ignore his worries, or if he should curl up into a ball and protect himself. He hasn’t felt this anxious since he was a teenager. He had therapy for a while and it got more manageable, but…

But now his life is falling apart all around him.

His magic scratches and pricks underneath his skin, threatening to break from his human form and take the choice of texting back from his fingers, leaving him with massive, furry, sharp-clawed paws instead—

Yuuri’s phone lights up, vibrating in his grip.

**Victor** :

Oh no, if that woke you up please don’t respond and just go back to sleep if you’re already awake.

But if you were awake I’m around to talk.

I’m so sorry I’ll stop annoying you now.

A small smile spreads across his face as he unlocks his phone, tapping out a quick message and only hesitating for a few moments before hitting send.

**Yuuri** :

I’m awake

You didn’t wake me

It’s only seconds before there’s a response.

**Victor** :

Oh, good.

I mean, not good that you’re awake.

But good thing I didn’t wake you.

I miss you.

The smile on Yuuri’s face grows, and he brings his phone closer to his face. Victor doesn’t stumble and fumble over his words like Yuuri does when he speaks out loud, he’s had so much practice with speaking publicly most of his life. But in text, he rambles out, almost seeming like it’s an unedited stream of consciousness.

**Yuuri** :

I miss you too

Do you have Makkachin?

**Victor** :

Yes!

A picture comes through, poorly lit, but Yuuri only barely keeps the cooing he keeps quiet enough to not wake Minako. Makkachin is draped across Victor’s torso, half-twisted, obviously dead asleep.

**Victor** :

I’m pinned down. (

**Yuuri** :

Don’t pretend like you don’t love it

**Victor** :

It’s not the same as you. (((

And Yuuri… Yuuri gets that. And maybe they’d be at least half-asleep right now if their parting wasn’t so… _rough_ , but there’s nothing they can change about that other than reach out across the chasm of space that separates them with a few words on a tiny screen.

**Victor** :

How was your day?

Yuuri grimaces.

**Yuuri** :

It wasn’t good

It wasn’t bad?

But

Not good

**Victor** :

Yuuri, darling, you’re going to have to be more specific than that.

Yuuri flushes, faster and hotter than when he was awake enough to realize he’d used Victor’s chest as a pillow for the first time, even more than when Victor rose out of the onsen _naked_ at their first, proper meeting.

Victor’s never called Yuuri a nickname like that before. Yuuri’s never been called anything like that endearingly; he doesn’t count the few “baby”s that he got at college parties.

Because this is very, very different.

Yuuri forces himself to focus on typing before his mind gets away from him.

**Yuuri** :

The mage we’re here to see admires me

He says I’m the reason he got into mageia like I’m anything to look up to

He wants his solo routine to be a tribute to one of mine

**Victor** :

Which one?

Yuuri snorts and rolls his eyes. Of course Victor asks that, like the program would matter.

**Yuuri** :

Lohengrin

**Victor** :

That’s a beautiful program.

**Yuuri** :

I didn’t even come close to the podium with it

**Victor** :

There are more important things than being on the podium.

**Yuuri** :

Sure, says you that hasn’t gotten anything but gold in years

As soon as he hits send, Yuuri sucks in a breath, regret burning through him. Yuuri’s upset, yeah, but he shouldn’t take it out on Victor. He can’t.

**Yuuri** :

I’m sorry

That wasn’t fair

**Victor** :

No, you’re right.

But that’s why I know that there are more important things.

It’s quiet for a long moment, and Yuuri almost thinks that Victor must have fallen asleep and he doesn’t dare to send another message, even if he wants to.

Luckily his phone vibrates again, and Yuuri’s selfishly happy that it does.

**Victor** :

Sometimes when you achieve your dream and there’s nowhere higher to climb, you lose sight of why you had that dream in the first place. And most of that time, the dream has nothing to do with winning. I started practicing mageia because there was freedom in it, and beauty. Not because I wanted to be on the podium. But now the podium is all I am. Your Lohengrin wasn’t technically where it needed to be to win, you’re right. But it was beauty and passion and I can see how a younger mage could see that and be inspired to be in the sport. I would have been. Please don’t discount it. And don’t discount him.

Yuuri flushes again, but for a completely different reason. Yes, he complimented Yuuri, but that’s not new. But he also scolded Yuuri.

And Yuuri deserves that.

He didn’t mean to discount Minami, he only meant to discount himself. But that’s exactly what he did, isn’t it? He took Minami’s dreams and aspirations and completely discounted them. Yuuri still doesn’t feel like he deserves it, especially with what Plisetsky said sinking its claws into his mind.

But even if Yuuri gets what Victor’s saying, he doesn’t know what to do about it. He doesn’t even know how to respond.

Luckily, Victor fills the silence.

**Victor** :

Sorry, that was long.

I start rambling when I’m tired.

**Yuuri** :

Do you want to try and sleep?

**Victor** :

No.

Do you want another picture of Makkachin?

Yuuri smiles softly.

**Yuuri** :

Is that even a question?

Their talking dissolves into a lot of pictures and strings of emojis—Victor even digs to find some older ones from when Makka was younger and she was tiny, a fraction of the size that she is now, without any of the silver hairs on her muzzle. Eventually, as the night wears on, the responses get fewer and fewer as Yuuri’s eyes drift close, and he manages to drift off with a smile on his face.

But they still don’t mention Plisetsky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ⁾⁾⁾) 
> 
> I am running on -100 spoons and my mental health is in the garbage bin (who's in a spiral of regretting ever having invested in writing because I'll never make a career out of it because my work is too longform and weird and I was never naturally talented at it? THIS HUMAN RIGHT HERE) while my physical health is whacking me upside the head with a baseball bat, so I'm sorry that I'm taking a while to respond to comments! I read and appreciate every one of them, I swear!!! Thank you to everyone who's reading and enjoying this strange story--I've said it before and I'll say it again: you guys really keep me going <3


	20. Twentieth

When Yuuri wakes in the morning he’s still clutching his phone, and when he unlocks it there’s already a picture of Makkachin there—along with a good morning selfie from Victor.

Yuuri clutches the phone close to his face as if he could reach through and touch Victor’s ruffled, messy hair and fix it for him before they head downstairs to eat breakfast. He wants to reach back, but he can’t. He _shouldn’t_.

Though he can just a bit, can’t he?

Yuuri shoves an arm out of his blanket burrito, opening his camera and taking a picture before he thinks too much about it. He gives it a cursory glance, and it isn’t too bad—but only because you can’t see much of him past the bedsheets. But there are still his tired eyes and a mess of hair that Victor’s probably very familiar with at this point.

Yuuri flushes as he hits send. It’s so weird to have someone be familiar with his _bedhead_ of all things. Someone that Yuuri’s used to falling asleep with every night. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could ever give up that private time and space at nights, needing the time to decompress from people.

But it’s almost like Victor isn’t a person, not in the way that drains him. And even though Yuuri still seeks out time alone when he needs it, sometimes it’s better to be able to sit back and listen to Victor’s mundane chatter about this and that instead of wallowing alone with his thoughts. What Yuuri wouldn’t give to be in that more familiar bed, his arms wrapped around a warm body…

But who knows how much longer he’ll have that?

Yuuri lets out a long sigh.

“You’ve barely been awake a few minutes and already with the dramatic sighing, huh?”

Yuuri flips over to find Minako perched on her bed, sipping coffee from a to-go cup. She waves vaguely at the nightstand between their beds and the cup and paper bag with presumably food inside. Yuuri wiggles across his bed and into a sitting position, sitting up and putting the food into his mouth while barely registering what it is, and it’s only half-way through his tea that he begins to taste it. It’s a green variety, and it isn’t too bad, very smooth and floral.

“I’m surprised you woke up on your own.” Minako must see some sign that he’s ready for conversation, speaking casually even if her eyes stay glued to Yuuri with a determined purpose. “After yesterday, I thought I’d have to drag you out of here today.”

Yuuri glances down at his cup, biting his lip. Yesterday had been exhausting, and he’s _still_ exhausted, but he’s accustomed to getting up pretty early to jog with Victor over to Minako’s studio. So he just shrugs before taking another sip. “Thank you for the food.”

“Letting you loose on the world with an empty stomach would be a disaster that none of us want to see.” Minako snorts. “We already have enough ground to cover after yesterday’s mess.”

Yuri freezes. “Did you know? About Minami?”

“What, that he was your fan?” Minako shakes her head with a snort. “Yuuri, all of Japan’s mageia competitors are your fans. I would be more surprised if we had met someone who _wasn’t_ your fan. You’re the only Japanese mageia competitor of this generation who’s doing much internationally, and you’ve inspired an entire generation to give the sport a chance. Arenas are more popular than they’ve been in at least a decade. You’ve had to have noticed the better turnout at Nationals—it’s changed so much since your junior years.”

“I thought it was just… more popular?” Yuuri frowns. “Besides, Victor—”

“Doesn’t get a ton of Japanese sponsorship deals.” Minako leans forward. “Doesn’t draw people to a dead town to try his favorite dish. Hasetsu hasn’t been revived, but between what you give your parents, and what you used to draw in with your sponsors, your family was doing pretty good.”

“‘Was.’” Yuuri repeats, familiar ears out and twitching back, flat against his head.

“Oh, don’t start on that. You’re trying something new.” She arches an eyebrow. “Unless you’re going to run away again and not come today?”

“No.” Yuuri sits up a little straighter. “I have to apologize to Minami.”

Minako’s jaw drops a little. “You— What?”

“I insulted him, and then I stormed off and…” And that’s _exactly_ what Plisetsky had done to Yuuri back at Sochi, and he doesn’t have the excuse of a broken promise and teenage hormones to try and justify it. “And I need to apologize. I’ll help you out with the routine if it means so much to him.Though I don’t understand any of whatever’s going on, and I’m not sure I ever will. I never did that program any sort of justice.”

“You made it yours. And I think it was pretty decent, even if it wouldn’t be up to your current skill level.” She juts out her chin a bit. “Just because you’re your own worst critic doesn’t mean that people aren’t allowed to like your work. Didn’t you get into this because of the art of it? The power and the grace?”

_There are more important things than being on the podium._

Yuuri can almost hear the words in Victor’s voice, in that solemn tone that he so rarely uses. Maybe Yuuri kind of gets what Victor’s trying to say. Not entirely, but enough that the words stick in his mind and don’t budge.

“You’re right,” Yuuri admits aloud, but he’s not sure exactly who he’s saying it to. “I just…”

“You had a really shitty day yesterday, I know. You wouldn’t normally escalate things like that. But you did still screw up, and an apology is a good idea.” She nods, as if agreeing with herself. “I’m proud you decided that on your own.”

“Well…” Yuuri glances at his phone, discarded on the bed. “Victor kind of told me I had my priorities wrong. And he didn’t say I needed to apologize, but…”

Minako sighs, long and dramatic and over the top. “Fine! Maybe he’s not totally bad.”

Yuuri grins. “Don’t even, I know you like him. You were almost as big a fan as I was.”

“ _Exactly_ , and I know how much of a playboy the media likes to go on about him being.”

“He’s not like that. _We’re_ not like that.” Yuuri scowls at her.

She rolls her eyes. “You think I didn’t notice that he’s absolute garbage at flirting? He’s about as smooth as a penguin trying to dance ballet. And call yourselves whatever you want, but I don’t think you could peel that man from your side if you wanted to. I’m surprised he didn’t insist on coming with you.”

Yuuri gives a half-shrug. “We talked about it, but he was worried he’d take too much attention from what we were doing.”

“Well, it looks like there is a shred of common sense between the two of you. It’s amazing how focused you two can be when practicing, but the moment you guys stop moving…” She sighs. “I know you’re worried about that Plisetsky kid, but there’s time to work it out when we get back. For now, I think you could do a lot of good for Minami.”

Yuuri blinks. “Me? For him?”

She presses her head to her forehead dramatically. “I _know_ we just went through this.”

Yuuri’s shoulders raise, and he ducks his head. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just…”

“At this point, it’s practically instinct, yeah, I’m getting that.” She gets up, giving him a pat on the shoulder, and he finds himself leaning into it. She pauses, frowning at him. “Sometimes I wish I kept you on here instead of shipping you off to America. We missed you, kiddo.”

Yuuri swallows, trying and failing to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I missed you all, too. I-I’m sorry for taking so long to come home.”

“No one can blame you for trying to have a life. Just like you are now.” Minako steps away and heads to the bathroom. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”

Yuuri untangles himself from his sheets and begins getting ready with Minako in the middle of her own routine—it reminds him a bit of when she used to be his coach in competitions. They always shared a room, and typically if he had a partner, they’d stay with their own parental figure. He doesn’t even remember most of his partners that well, lost to the haze of practice after practice, competition after competition. He remembers the routines. He remembers Minako’s praise when he’d earned it. He remembers Vicchan—

His chest aches, the thought too sudden to prepare for the stab of grief to ache through him. Yuuri still visits Vicchan’s shrine when he can, and it gets easier and easier as time passes, but sometimes he just can’t expect it, can’t prepare himself for it. So he ducks his head down, grabs his stuff—

And his phone vibrates in his pocket. Yuuri already has a grin on his face before he takes it out and sees Victor’s latest Makkachin offering. Victor would have loved to meet Vicchan, and Vicchan definitely would’ve gotten along with Makkachin. It’s unfair that they never got to meet.

But before Yuuri can go any farther down that rabbit hole, Minako’s dragging him out the door and they head to the arena.

It’s even quieter than yesterday, fewer people in the arena. There’s no class being taught, meaning that the mages in the arena each have a good amount of room to practice.

Meaning it’s really easy to make out a distinct head of blonde and crimson hair.

“Go and say hi.” Minako walks past him, heading toward an office area. “I’m gonna talk to his coach. You’ll have a few minutes!”

Yuuri swallows and gives a nod.

Minako grins, giving him a thumbs-up, and then turns to focus on where she’s going. Honestly, with how she acts, you’d never guess her real age. Though fox-type familiars tend to be a little tricky to pin down in all sorts of ways.

And now Yuuri’s procrastinating by thinking instead of doing.

Yuuri squares up his shoulders and starts toward the arena entrance, pausing where he feels the magical pulse of the dome of power around it. It takes everything in him to not raise his hand and touch it, to reach out and ask for proper entrance—he’s been to this arena for regional competitions, after all. But he can’t risk fully shifting in the middle of this conversation, so he puts his head down, closes himself off even more than before, and pushes through.

It’s odd to feel the spark of magic around him but to not let it catch and burn beneath his skin. It’s wrong, and unsettling in a deep way that leaves him reeling for a moment.

But if he wants to follow this path, it’s a sensation he’ll have to get used to.

He strides over to find that Minami’s working on his focus and control again, but this time with light—a spiritual magic. Yuuri’s not entirely sure how it works because he’s never been able to do it, but he watches the small ball floating above where Minami sits knelt on the ground turn into a different shape and color, held for a moment. It’s mesmerizing to watch it shift, green and round, to white and diamond, a blue star, a purple line. All precise, beautiful, practiced.

Yuuri’s not sure how long passes before the light goes out—it would have been rude to interrupt—and Minami gasps in a breath, sweat dripping on his brow.

“That was impressive.” Yuuri walks around Minami and takes a seat a few feet away. “Especially for…”

Is it rude to say especially for a hybrid mage? Yuuri remembers hearing that he was good for someone only just being able to shift enough to compete, and how that dug deep under his skin, burning against his mind as a constant reminder as to why he was never good enough.

But Minami lights up, beaming as if Yuuri had just declared him the next world champion. “Thank you! I’ve been working hard on that. I’ve focused more on physical magic since that’s what you do, but I’ve been trying to catch up with my spiritual magic, too.”

“It looks like you’re doing a good job.” Yuuri actually has no idea what Minami was even trying for—he’s watched spiritual mages practice, he’s had them as _partners_ , but he’s never seen an exercise like that one.

“I— Thank you.” Minami ducks his head. “Yesterday you weren’t… well, you didn’t like it, but you really are my inspiration, you know? No matter what you think about it, you’ve gone farther than any physical mage who can only transform so much. And I can transform all the way, so why shouldn’t I be able to do it?”

Yuuri smiles, even if he feels the sadness dragging it down around the edges. “You’re going to be amazing to watch. You’re going to inspire so many other mages, you know.”

Minami visibly hesitates, chewing on his lip in a way that’s familiar to Yuuri. “It was always my dream to compete against you. Are you really retired?”

Yuuri takes in a deep breath, needing to look away to be able to whisper, “Yes.” Because he doesn’t want to say it. Because if it were Victor retiring before Yuuri got a chance to properly compete against him, Yuuri would be devastated.

He and Minami are polar opposites in a lot of ways, but Yuuri can almost feel a kinship in having an idol you admire so much that you just want to get as close as possible to reaching them.

“I don’t have control of my magic. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be the same. I can transform fully now.” He gives a wry smile. Of course he can only transform like that now, when it’s useless to him. “I’m sorry. Both for the fact that I can’t compete, and for how I acted yesterday. I… I’m having a hard time with things lately, and that’s no excuse to lash out at you. It won’t happen again while I help you guys work on your routine.”

Minami frowns for just a moment before his face slowly but surely lights up again. “You’ll help Minako-sensei work on my routine?”

Yuuri gives a nod. “So long as you’re okay with it after my behavior yesterday.”

“Of _course_ I’m okay with it! I’m— I’m—” Minami makes some sort of incomprehensible squeaking noise that Yuuri’s not entirely sure he would have been able to hear without his familiar ears. “This is a dream come true! Thank you so, so much, Katsuki-kun! I’m going to show the entire world how much you mean to me, and then you’ll be _forced_ to see how amazing you are! You’re an inspiration to all of Japan, and I’ll prove it!”

Yuuri fights his twitching lips away from a smile, even if Minami’s enthusiasm is infectious, and lowers his head into a slight bow. “Thank you for giving me a second chance, I promise to make you proud.”

“There’s only one condition.”

Yuuri’s head snaps up. “What?”

“If you ever get better, and you go back to competing, I want to face you at your full potential! I don’t want you to hold back. I want to beat you fair and square one day.” Minami’s eyes shine with some sort of emotion, and he doesn’t have a teasing grin or a laugh on his lips. This is serious for him, then.

“But…” Yuuri frowns, trying to think through his words before he says them. “There’s very little chance that I’ll ever recover.”

“You’re the strongest person I know.” Minami grips his knees, leaning forward. “You talked about struggling with— with stuff inside, too. Not just your magic. And to go so far, when you’re fighting something like that? I… I know how hard that can be. If anyone can beat this, it’s you. And if you do, I want to face you in the arena.”

This time, Yuuri doesn’t fight the warm smile that spreads across his lips. When Minami says it like that, like he believes in him relentlessly no matter what Yuuri says or does, he can almost believe it’s true. He knows better, of course he does.

But he almost wishes, for Minami’s sake, that it could be a reality.

“Of course.” Yuuri looks up and meets Minami’s eyes. “If we ever face each other in the arena, I’ll show you no mercy. But I expect you to give me a run for my money.”

“Oh, I’ll make you work for it, don’t worry!” Minami beams. “I placed at last year’s Nationals, and I plan on winning this year! With a program I care so much about, I have to.”

Yuuri laughs. “You don’t even have your program yet.”

“No, but I know who’s making it, and I know they’re brilliant, and I’m excited to get to work!” He beams for a moment before it fades a little into something just as happy, but more thoughtful. “Thank you.”

Yuuri almost protests, almost says that he didn’t earn it, almost says that he should be thanking Minami instead, but he stops himself. Yuuri doesn’t want to keep discounting Minami and his feelings, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him.

“You’re welcome.” Yuuri reaches out and ruffles Minami’s hair, making him squeak. “You’ll make Minako and me proud, right?”

Minami hops to his feet, fists clenched. “I will! I’ll make you so proud that you’ll never doubt anything, ever again.”

Well, that’s a bit of a tall order, considering the fact that Yuuri’s brain is wired to make him doubt every single thing, but Yuuri knows what he means by it, and it warms him in a way he hasn’t felt since he stepped on that train and left his life in a torn mess behind him.

So Yuuri nods at Minami. “I’m counting on you.”

And Minami gives his brightest smile yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY!!! I had a hell of a rough day that started out with fasting and now I feel like a used garbage bag that keeps wanting to pass out and nothing is working right _and_ I have a migraine building and UGH ENOUGH ESCUSES, I'm super sorry I absolutely forgot it was Wednesday!!! Hopefully when I finally see my new doc I'll be able to get to the bottom of some of this. Okay! Posting chapter now and then going to pass out and sleep for as long as the insomnia lets me


	21. Twenty-First

Yuuri wasn’t sure what he expected from working with Minami, but he absolutely was not expecting to have fun with it. There’s only one full day remaining for them to work with Minami to hash out exactly what needs to be done since Minako and Yuuri get on a train first thing the next morning, but they manage to get a _lot_ done.

Yuuri’s seen Minako at work. He’s seen old videos of her old performances, a master performer of physical arts. She’s accompanied him to countless competitions as a coach, and having known Yuuri since he was a baby gave her an edge over every other person that Yuuri’s worked with. And now, seeing her working with Minami, constantly bringing out his bright smiles? It’s easy to tell that she’s just as experienced in working with mages in choreography, too.

Even with as excitable as Minami can be at times, he’s focused every time that Minako and Yuuri ask him questions and direct him through magic and motions. Fortunately—but surreally—he has Yuuri’s old program memorized, and that gives them a firm base to work with.

It’s more startling than it should be to _see_ just how big of a fan that Minami is. It’s not like he’s been shy about telling Yuuri how much he’s inspired him, but to see that he cares enough to learn an entire routine of his, even if his magic and training are a little different from Yuuri’s own?

It does something odd in his chest, makes it clench almost anxiously, but it also fills him with warmth.

Is this how Victor felt when he saw Yuuri’s broken rendition of Stammi Vicino? It wasn’t nearly as skilled as Minami’s take on Lohengrin, and certainly not as unique. Minami takes advantage of his dual magic to make up for the fact that his power is split between both, weaker in a way but stronger in another. He takes Yuuri’s program and speaks the same language with it that Yuuri did when he performed it years ago, but the message is completely different. It has all of the drama and flair of Yuuri’s rendition, but this is more fervent than Yuuri’s is. Whereas Yuuri’s take was more somber and tragic, Minami is passion and desperation. It makes it so that even Yuuri can make some suggestions as to changes to make, to see the potential in a nearly clean slate with the same story but a new performer.

But even if it’s very different, it still moves Yuuri that this is his doing. That he had enough influence to inspire, to make Minami come so far, enough to gain perspective of what’s a good and a bad performance in mageia, and to _still_ look up to Yuuri and his mountain of faults and failures.

It makes him wonder what Victor actually sees in Yuuri.

It was easy to wrap his mind around Victor using him to self-destruct his career, to maybe have a little fun while he’s at it or something like that. And it was easy to cling to that and hold it as truth, even if it didn’t match Victor’s actions at all. If Victor was actually the kind of person to act like that, Minako would have never grown to like him. And Yuuri’s parents may be generally friendly, but the claws come out the moment that any of their loved ones are threatened or hurt. For being the ones in the family that shift so little, the way they can intimidate people when they try would make you think they could shift fully into their spiritual familiar forms at the drop of a hat.

No, Victor can get stuck in his own head in weird ways sometimes, but he didn’t come here to use Yuuri. Not on purpose.

Then why? What did Victor see in Yuuri’s stumbling around the arena with mismatched, ungraceful magic, slowly losing control of his body as he struggled through Stammi Vicino? What would Yuuri see if Minami were struggling instead of flying through Lohengrin?

He would feel pity, of course, most people probably felt that while watching Yuuri. He would be proud of Minami for trying, too. But that wouldn’t be enough to fly halfway around the world. He would relate—but Victor wouldn’t be able to relate to something like that. He has complete control of his life, of his body. He’s good at every aspect of magic and performing.

_Sometimes when you achieve your dream and there’s nowhere higher to climb, you lose sight of why you had that dream in the first place._

Yuuri stills where he stands, watching Minako and Minami running through a series of steps side by side, Minako talking him through _something_ but the words aren’t registering with Yuuri.

Maybe… maybe he could relate to Yuuri? Not directly, he obviously hasn’t lost control of himself—Yuuri still hasn’t seen a single feather on Victor. It’s like he’s avoiding it, for some reason.

But Yuuri wars with himself. He has struggles, he will struggle, every single day to chase after a dream that he can feel brush against his fingertips before it skitters out of reach yet again. Yuuri had the drive, the incessant _need_ to chase after Victor even when his broken body betrayed them. He reached for the sky even as his wings laid broken and torn on the ground.

What does Victor have to reach for?

Yuuri’s probably stretching for a reason and an explanation. He has to ask Victor in person, next time that he sees him—they have a lot to talk about when they see each other next that, unfortunately, no amount of pictures of Makkachin will erase.

But Victor said some of it himself, didn’t he? That winning isn’t everything to him, that he doesn’t have anything to reach for anymore.

But he reached for Yuuri.

Yuuri’s cheeks warm, but more of a dull pink than a flaming red—he hopes.

It’s not like Yuuri’s the only one out there doing tributes to Victor. It’s not like he’s the only mageia competitor that had to retire this year. He _is_ the only one so broken that there’s no way that Victor can bond with him, though.

And Victor is absolutely ridiculous, a terrible flirt, and will lay down his life for any dog in need, but… Victor thinks about what he does before he does it. There was still a plan somewhere in all this.

Unless Yuuri was his one impulse decision?

Yuuri scowls. Well, that was a poor choice of a decision, then. Maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t impulsive.

Except Yuuri can’t really regret having Victor around. He’s always wanted to meet his idol, yeah, but Victor’s just _Victor_ now. And Yuuri values the time they spend together just as much as he values the years upon years of motivation and dedication that Victor’s inspired in Yuuri.

Yuuri sighs, leaning back against the boards and looking up at the ceiling.

He really misses Victor.

He really wishes that they didn’t have to part like that.

But it’s less than a day until he gets back now, and…

Yuuri’s heartbeat picks up its pace a little. This time where they’ve been able to float between conversations and decisions is coming quickly to an end. Hasetsu will never be as safe or as comfortable after this, not when the outside world’s found its way in and Victor and Yuuri have no escape from it.

How can a fifteen-year-old kid cause so much chaos?

“Yuuri! Stop daydreaming you ridiculous lovebird, and get over here and show Minami how you worked this shift into your program!”

Yuuri jolts to attention. “Yes, Minako-sensei!”

Yuuri pointedly ignores Minami’s giggling as he walks back over to them.

He throws himself into helping out for the rest of the day, even as his exhaustion makes his shifts a little more sudden than usual, and he manages to tear _another_ pant leg in the middle of demonstrating a change that Minako was trying and failing to show Minami.

Yuuri very pointedly ignores the broken look that Minami has on his face as he stares at Yuuri’s leg. He supposes that if it were Victor and Yuuri was watching him lose control of his body, Yuuri would probably make the same sort of face—but the sting of failure still strikes across his chest.

He doesn’t give up though. He won’t. If this is the path he’s going to take, he needs to work with these changes, and ripped clothes in an arena is hardly unusual.

He pushes through, and the tentative smile across Minami’s face makes it all worth it.

By the time that they head back to the hotel, Yuuri’s ready to collapse for the second day in a row, his muscles _aching_. He’s been practicing daily with Victor and Minako, but not for hours and hours and _hours_. How Minako still has _any_ sort of pep through dinner is beyond him, he can barely form words. Minako must not be human. She’s some sort of monster.

Except… once Yuuri climbs into bed, he can’t fall asleep. He can barely close his eyes

He gets to go home tomorrow.

He gets to see Victor.

He has to see Plisetsky.

Yuuri tosses and turns for what feels like hours, but when he grabs his phone, it’s been minutes.

It’s not really that late yet—not as late as the conversation that Yuuri and Victor had last night. It would probably be pretty needy of Yuuri to text Victor already. It would probably waste his time. And maybe Victor’s already managed to fall asleep.

Yuuri thinks all these things, acknowledges them.

But he’s too tired to really care.

He grabs his phone.

**Yuuri** :

Are you awake?

Then his actions catch up with him and he almost tosses his phone across the room.

Except that his phone vibrates in his hand before he can even start to toss it.

**Victor** :

Yeah.

And this time, Makka’s awake too!

A picture comes through shortly after of Makkachin, ears attentive and tongue rolling out, eager for the inevitable treat that she’ll get for posing like the good girl she is, but next to her is Victor. His face is smooshed up against hers, distorting his tired but earnest smile, his eyes always happy when near his precious girl. His hair is a little messy, not enough to be from sleep, but… maybe from running his hands through it?

Yuuri wants to fix it. He wants to be teased for being just as doting as his mom and dad about it. He wants to take Victor’s hand and tease Victor right back that he wouldn’t have to be like this if Victor wasn’t so much of a mess—which is a lie, Victor’s the most organized person Yuuri knows, but sometimes he just gets so focused that he forgets—and Victor would pout, and…

And Yuuri wants Victor. He wants to sleep in the same bed as him, he wants to hold his hand, he wants to hear his voice—

Oh.

Yuuri can have that at least, can’t he?

He swings his feet off the side of his bed, slides on some slippers, grabs his keycard and slips as quietly as he can into the hall of the hotel, hitting the call button by Victor’s name.

Which is when he realizes this is a stupid idea. What if Victor doesn’t want to talk? What if Yuuri’s being annoying by nagging him? What if this is the final straw that sends Victor running back to Russia with—

The line picks up.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor breathes, like it’s a relief to be able to say his name.

Yuuri leans against the wall as he takes in a breath, letting himself slide down it. “Hi, Victor.”

For a moment Yuuri just smiles, curled up against the wall and letting himself enjoy the fact that he can have just a little bit of Victor while this far away from him. It’s almost enough to wash away all of his worries.

Almost.

“I-I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.” Yuuri’s words stumble from his mouth, not quite sure how to say what he wants to say. How was he able to talk so much easier with Minami, practically a stranger, and yet he’s spent days upon days with Victor, and just a few sentences are hard after so short a time apart. “I know you and Makka are probably going to bed, and you have to— You have a guest to take care of. Not to mention you help out so much with the onsen—”

“Yuuri,” Victor repeats, tone soft but scolding. “If I didn’t want to talk with you, I could have declined your call, or even just ignored it.”

“I— Oh. I guess you’re right… But I should have asked.” Yuuri brings up his knees, resting his chin on them.

“You never have to ask to call me. _Ever_.” Yuuri can almost see the firm line of Victor’s lips that comes with this tone. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the day or the middle of the night.”

“But— If you’re sleeping, I don’t want to wake you up. Or if you’re too busy, or…” Yuuri swallows. “I don’t want to call you if you’ll just drop everything important for it.

Victor clicks his tongue. “Well, of course I mean within reason. Try to wake me up in the middle of the night sometime, it’s a miracle that I wake up to alarms in the morning. Besides, wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

Yuuri shrinks a little more against the wall, warmth spreading across his cheeks. He would, of course he would. If he were busy or needed space, he’d feel bad about it, but he wouldn’t answer.

He’s not sure if the fluttering feeling inside him is more shame about being so obvious about how he feels, or pride that Victor knows Yuuri cares.

“I would,” Yuuri admits, the words heavier than they should be.

“Then that’s that! For the record, I’m very happy that you called me.” And Victor means it if the smile that Yuuri hears in his voice is anything to go by. “Now, how did today go? Did you see your mage again today?”

“Um, yeah. Minami.” Yuuri nods, even though Victor can’t see him. “I apologized.”

“That was kind of you.” Victor doesn’t say it patronizingly but proudly, like he means it. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

“Yeah, I did. Because I get what it’s like to have an idol, and I don’t think I would have been as generous as Minami if that happened to me. I mean, I guess in a way I know how it feels when your idol dismisses you—I mean, um…” Oh no, no, Victor _knows_ that there are only posters of one person up on Yuuri’s walls, he doesn’t have a single other person he admires nearly as much, even if he respects other skaters. No, he has to save this—but _how_?

“Your idol? Do you mean _me_?” Victor’s tone is sharp enough that Yuuri flinches. “Yuuri, what did I do?”

“Um,” Yuuri squeaks, squeezing his eyes shut. He could make up a lie, or take it back, but he doesn’t _want_ to do that to Victor. The problem is that he doesn’t want to hurt Victor, either. “It’s silly. You won’t even remember.”

“Yuuri, please tell me?” Oh no, he sounds _upset_ , and it’s all Yuuri’s fault.

“No, it— It’s dumb. It was at the Final. I already had a rough go of it because— Well, it doesn’t matter, but I was leaving the arena after the solo competition and you caught me staring, and you asked for a commemorative photo. Like I was— I was just a fan. Not a fellow competitor, just… Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a few, long seconds before Victor finally speaks. “I don’t remember that at _all_. Yuuri, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Yuuri laughs nervously, waving a hand like he could just brush away this whole situation. “It hurt at the time, but why would you know me? I was never a threat at any of our competitions and even at the Final I was just a solo physical mage who couldn’t have mattered against your total score. I’ve never even won a competition like that before. I was a nobody. I still am. And I look different with my glasses on and while I’m not shifted at all, so it’s not like—”

“Yuuri.” Victor’s voice is sharp and cold, and snaps Yuuri out of his rambling. “Don’t make excuses for me, please.”

“But I… I get it. It’s alright.” And it is, now. It stung back then, right after Vicchan and his complete and utter failure. But Yuuri gets how overwhelming competitions are, especially with someone like Victor. He can’t imagine how overwhelming the swarm of people and demands are when you’re as amazing as Victor Nikiforov.

“No Yuuri, it’s _not_.” Victor’s voice breaks just a little, and it makes Yuuri start. “Yuuri, I hurt you. And I didn’t mean to, I don’t even remember it. But _you_ remember it. And then, afterward… Oh, _Yuuri_.”

“I…” Yuuri tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. “You didn’t mean to.”

“No, I didn’t.” Victor agrees, but he doesn’t sound too happy about it. “I was so caught up in my head. I was so— so _lost_ , Yuuri. I didn’t care. There was a point early in the season when I realized I couldn’t for the life of me remember my duet partner’s last name. And I didn’t _care_. I didn’t care about anything. I would perform, and I didn’t feel it. And then Sochi, and we... Well, after that, I started to realize that there was no future in mageia for me if I couldn’t feel. If I didn’t care about anything. But what was I going to do afterward? There was nothing for me. I didn’t pay attention to anyone or anything. I barely made it through Worlds before I completely cracked and everything slipped away, and then—”

Victor pauses, taking a shaky breath. “Then I saw you performing Stammi Vicino. Broken in your own way but fighting like hell. And even though your magic was trying to escape you, it was _obvious_ how much you felt the program. There wasn’t any music playing in that video, but your body sang all on your own. It was beautiful Yuuri. You were beautiful. And I never want to make you feel like you’re anything but that.”

A moment of quiet passes, only breathing coming through on the other line. “Yuuri, are you there?”

“Uh-huh,” Yuuri manages, voice strangled as he tries not to let it crack too much. And that’s the last straw, the tears finally falling from his face, and a small sob escaping his lips.

“Oh no. No, no, no, I made you cry _again_.” Yuuri can practically see his frantic movements, hands flapping around uselessly.

And Yuuri has to laugh, even if it comes out too cracked to sound right. “N-no, it’s good tears. I-I don’t even know why I’m c-crying like this. I think I’m just t-t-tired.” He pauses to sniff and wipe at his eyes with the back of his hands. “I miss sleeping with you.”

“Oh, that’s all you miss about me?” Victor teases tentatively, voice still too gentle.

Yuuri laughs again. “Don’t sell yourself short. I m-miss your dog, too.”

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor whines, much more like himself. “So mean!”

“I miss _you_ too,” Yuuri admits softly, closing his eyes. “I feel like it’s silly to miss you as much as I do when I know I’ll see you tomorrow. But I do.”

Victor’s breath catches. “I miss you so much, Yuuri. It’s almost worse to know you so well and have you so close, yet so far. But tomorrow can be just for us. I’ll make sure that nothing interrupts.”

“My mom might not like that.” Yuuri sniffs.

“I’ll promise to do whatever she wants for a month.”

Yuuri snorts. “She already has you wrapped around her little finger.”

“Fine, fine.” Victor sighs. “I suppose I can let your mom dote on you a little.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri murmurs, and it’s not for just planning to spend time with him when he gets home tomorrow, or even this phone call. It’s for everything.

“You’re welcome.” And his voice is heavier than a moment ago, weightier, as if maybe he picked up the full depth of what Yuuri meant. “Now, you should get some sleep, you have an early train ride in the morning, don’t you?”

“I do…” Yuuri bites his lip. He’s not ready to go yet. “Stay on the phone with me?”

“Won’t you wake up Minako?”

Yuuri shakes his head before realizing Victor can’t see him. “I mean, not talk. Just… stay?”

Victor silent for only a fraction of a second. “Of course, Yuuri.”

“Okay. I-I’m going to go back in the room, I’m out in the hallway.” Yuuri says as he gets up.

“I’m already in bed with Makkachin.” There’s rustling as Victor must settle in to be more comfortable, and the distinctive click of his lamps.

“Good, okay,” Yuuri mutters, swiping his keycard and slipping back into the darkness, crawling into bed and bringing his phone with him.

He sits for a moment, a little awkward, before whispering, “Goodnight, Victor.”

“Goodnight, my Yuuri,” Victor murmurs back.

Yuuri flushes a bit and briefly wonders if this was a good idea.

But as Victor’s breathing evens out and that ridiculous little nose whistle echoes across the tinny speakers, Yuuri falls into a sleep far more restful than last night’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorks! They're dorks in love!!!
> 
> *ehem* Anyway! I hope that if you are going to/have celebrated any sort of holidays, that they're as safe and stress-free as can be <3 I know it's always tough for me. And I've seen my new doctor and we're testing/following up with the two worst-case scenarios so I can hopefully cross those off the list (or start me on the path to being able to function again) this coming month! As always, thank you all so, so much for reading and being amazing <3


	22. Twenty-Second

When Yuuri wakes in the morning, his phone is dead. It really shouldn’t surprise him, he left it on all night to listen to Victor Nikiforov’s _nose whistle_ of all things. Does Victor even know that he does that at night?

Yuuri could tell him about it, but… he kind of doesn’t want to. Knowing Victor, if Yuuri mentioned it he’d probably try every snoring remedy on the market to get rid of it, and Yuuri actually kind of likes it.

Maybe Yuuri’s the only one who even knows that he does that.

A flush crawls across Yuuri’s face as the thought sinks deeper. He can’t believe that no one’s ever spent the night and slept in the same bed as Victor Nikiforov. Who on earth would pass up that opportunity? He’s a little dorky and a lot clingy, but he cares so much and tries so hard. Yuuri kind of wishes that he could punch everyone that passed up on sleeping with Victor—

Well, not _sleep_ sleep with. Yuuri hasn’t done that, yet.

 _Yet_?

Yuuri lets out a squeak and clutches his phone tighter. _Does_ he want that? He doesn’t know. He’s tried some stuff in college, but he’s never really _wanted_ it with someone before. And before now, it was easy. He just never felt that way about anyone.

Except now… He’s not sure he wants it.

But he’s not sure he _doesn’t_ want it.

And what does that mean for them? And what does Victor want from _Yuuri_?

No, no, no. Yuuri shakes his head. He’s assuming that he has time to even find this stuff out between the two of them. If Victor’s competing this season, he’ll have to start seriously training soon, and then travel later—and that’s all assuming he stays and uses Hasetsu’s tiny little facilities for that. He has a tie back to Russia at Yu-topia with him right now, it wouldn’t be hard to go back.

Except… that’s not worrying Yuuri so much right now?

He frowns, his brow furrowing. When did that change? When had the prospect of an feral fifteen-year-old waiting for him at home stop haunting his every thought?

“What on earth are you doing?”

Yuuri lets out another squeak, sitting upright. “I— Nothing? Were you just standing there _watching me_?”

“How could I look away when you were putting on a show?” Minako shrugs, walking around the bed to set down a to-go cup and a bag, just like yesterday. “And are you sure that ‘nothing’ isn’t whatever you have on your phone that you’re hiding against your chest? Let me guess, Victor sent it?”

Yuuri blinks slowly, then finally processes her words and gapes, scrambling to sit up. “ _Minako_ - _sensei_! No! Victor wouldn’t— What do you even think that he would send— You know what, _don’t answer that_. My phone is dead, see? Look!” He waves it in front of her face.

She arcs an eyebrow. “You really expect me to buy that? You just went through the entire range of human emotion within minutes, I’ll eat my ballet shoes if Victor Nikiforov didn’t send you a picture of his—”

“ _Minako_!” Yuuri squeaks.

“What?” She smirks. “I was going to say dog, what did _you_ have in mind?”

Yuuri drops his phone and buries his face in his hands. “I was just _thinking_ , okay?” It probably comes out mumbled and hard to make out, but Minako’s had to work with worse from him.

“About what?”

Yuuri grumbles some indistinct jumble of words, knowing better than to give her ammunition with a real answer. He feels a little bit like he’s fifteen again, traveling for a competition with Minako here to tease him and keep his feet on the ground.

He’s kind of missed it a little. Celestino was a good coach who improved Yuuri’s techniques and brought him up to the next level. Despite what Victor thinks about him, Celestino knows how to coach well. He’s world-renowned, after all.

But sometimes he seemed to be.. awkward with Yuuri’s anxiety. He knows it’s a lot worse than the nerves that other athletes get, it’s a problem that exists both inside and outside of the arena. It felt like sometimes he treated Yuuri like he was fragile, like he was afraid to touch him.

But Minako doesn’t treat him like that. Neither does anyone else, really. And it’s nice to see, because a part of him had started to believe that Celestino was right, that he would bend and break at the touch of the slightest of winds.

Minako lets out a long sigh. “Were you really just sitting there thinking of Victor? That was it?”

Yuuri’s head pops up, and he knows he’s doomed as soon as her eyes fall on the flush of his cheeks.

“Wow, you’re just as much of a damned romantic as your father.” Minako sighs, rubbing her forehead. “Come on, eat up. I won’t have us missing a train because you’re daydreaming about Victor Nikiforov. And to think I’d assume you’d outgrown this habit of yours after your teenage years. I wonder how many times you made Phichit late in Detroit. I wonder how many times you made Celestino wait for you while you stared dreamily at a poster.”

“He didn’t— I never made us late because of that!” Yuuri scrambles toward the food, suddenly aware that he has _no_ idea what time it is.

Okay, maybe Victor distracted him a _little bit_. But it’s not Victor’s fault.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure Phichit doesn’t have a million stories about you gushing the entire known history and accomplishments of Victor Nikiforov to anyone who stands still long enough to listen. You remember your first duet partner when you switched up from Novice to Junior, her name was, ah… Well, I can’t remember it, but she had the _biggest_ crush on you and every time she tried to flirt, all you’d do was talk about Victor Nikiforov?” Minako snickers as she makes her way around the room, gathering their stuff.

“I— What?” Yuuri takes a moment to swallow what’s in his mouth. “Naoko? She loved Victor as much as I did!”

Minako rolls her eyes. “She _pretended_ to like him so she could get close to you. Honestly, in some ways you really haven’t changed. Now stop getting distracted and eat! You can charge your phone at home, I’m confiscating your charger so you stay focused. You can borrow one of my books or something.”

Yuuri scrunches his nose. “You have _terrible_ taste in books, I don’t need to fall asleep trying to make my way through all that flowery nonsense.”

Minako slowly turns toward him, eyes narrow. “Katsuki Yuuri. Do we want to talk about the dozens of trashy gossip magazines you bought as a kid and cut out pictures from to make a Victor collage big enough it used to take up your whole wall? In front of Victor Nikiforov?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, and he shoves the rest of his breakfast into his mouth.

Minako smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Yuuri scrambles from the bed and into the bathroom before he can get cornered into any more early morning conversations.

Luckily, the rest of the morning goes by without any more incidents. Yuuri desperately wants his phone to check for the inevitable pictures of sleepy Makka—maybe even another morning selfie from Victor—but he can’t exactly resent Minako because she’s right.

Yuuri has to stop and take a breath any time he even _thinks_ about getting a picture from Victor. If he had to stop and coo at every picture of Makka and then think way too much about a response about the dozens of pictures Victor would probably send…

Yeah, she probably made a good choice, even if he’s a little grumpy about it.

Minako actually laughs at him once they’re finally on the train and he flops onto his seat. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’ll be seeing him in person soon.”

“Yeah, I know.” Yuuri sighs. “Sorry, I just…”

He just what? He _is_ going to see Victor soon. He’s gone longer than this train ride without talking to him, like when one of them head off with Mari to run errands, or Victor gets distracted working in the kitchen, or Yuuri gets too into some game on his phone while tucked in some corner of the onsen before Victor finds him and flops onto him.

But that isn’t quite the same.

They haven’t had any commitments tying them together before now… But back then, leaving wasn’t imminent. There’s still months before the mageia season properly starts up—though, if Victor really has switched to competing for Japan, he might have to do some of the earlier, regional competitions to qualify for the bigger events. That was still ages away though. And now Victor _says_ he’ll stay, sure, but there are people actively looking to take him away.

And if he really wants to go, Yuuri can’t keep him. As much as he would love to steal Victor from the world, Yuuri can’t do it if that’s not what Victor wants. He only wants Victor happy.

“Oh, don’t make that face.” Minako reaches forward and ruffles his hair. “You really are worse than when you were a teenager.”

“I’m not— I’m not _pining_ or anything.” Yuuri frowns, folding his hands in his lap and keeping his eyes glued to them. “I’m just worried. Now that we’re going back…”

“You can’t ignore the little brat anymore?”

Yuuri’s lips quirk up. “Yeah.”

“Well, if you’re determined to believe there’s a problem, no one but you is going to talk you out of it. But there are a few things to remember. First, that kid is only fifteen. As talented as he is, he’s obviously a handful to work with and I know _I_ wouldn’t be up for coaching or working on choreography for him, much less doing a duet with that punk. Victor can do better if he wants to, and he’s said he _doesn_ ’ _t_ want to.”

Yuuri tentatively glances up at Minako, finding her face lacking all teasing and mirth, a determined furrow in her brow.

“Second.” She brings up a second finger on the hand she must’ve been holding out even though Yuuri wasn’t looking. “Victor’s said he won’t leave. A lot. Just in front of me, not counting how many times he must have said it to you. No matter if you think he should be ready to move on from Hasetsu or not, you’re his biggest fan—you _have_ to have noticed that he’s changed. When I watched Worlds, his smile was _nothing_ like what it looks like when he just _sees_ you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s face warms—but he doesn’t have an argument against her. He’s noticed Victor’s smiles, too. And there are even more smiles that Minako hasn’t seen, ones that Yuuri only sees first thing in the morning, or when they’re talking quietly together, just the two of them in the onsen.

“Third.” She ticks off another finger. “He fell asleep with you on the phone, even with that weird that snore that Makkachin has. If he didn’t care and mean his word, why the hell would he subject himself to staying with you like that and probably killing his phone too?”

Yuuri’s familiar ears go back for a second, cowed by her words—until he realizes what she said. “Wait, you _knew_ that I stayed on the phone with Victor?”

Minako shrugs, flipping her hair. “You really expect me to give up an opportunity to tease you like that? Yuuri, please. Besides, I heard you leave the room and I wanted to make sure you came back safely. Maybe it’s silly, but I’m still in the habit of looking out for you when we travel. I know you’re an adult technically, but some habits die hard.”

Yuuri smiles at her until he can’t stand the warmth growing in his chest and the burning behind his eyes, and glances out of the train window without really taking in the scenery. “Thanks.”

“Of course, kiddo. Now stop sighing so I can get some reading done,” she mutters as she starts digging through her bag.

Yuuri laughs a little and, lucky for her, his smile won’t go away. Time passes a lot quicker than it had on the way to see Minami—at least, that’s how it feels. Yuuri doesn’t have access to a clock, but he thinks that the landmarks are going by a little bit faster now that he’s in a bit of a better mood.

Minako has some good points. It’s not enough to make all of his doubts go away, of course. He still doesn’t know what Plisetsky being there will bring, and he’s terrified of the fact that the peace that he and Victor built together will come to an end. Though that’s inevitable, really. No matter what, things are going to have to change.

But… who says that it has to be a bad change?

The best case scenario is that Victor stays in Hasetsu, and the teenager that stalked Victor all the way out to Japan leaves them alone. Yeah, there will be conflict no matter what, Yuuri has to talk with Victor and Plisetsky—unless the _very best_ case scenario happens and Plisetsky is gone by the time Yuuri gets back. But if Victor won’t leave, there’s nothing here for Plisetsky and he _has_ to go back to Russia eventually to train.

Unless Yakov Feltsman is forced to come after him and the onsen is suddenly full of Russians.

Yuuri shivers. Okay, _that_ would be one of the worst case scenarios, but more likely than not Plisetsky would go. He’s young, but he’s a serious athlete. And then Victor would have to start training if he wants to compete solo. Yeah, he hasn’t been to the arena, but he’s been constantly practicing Storge, and it’s coming along so beautifully that Yuuri might have had to leave the room to freak out about it a few times. The world deserves to see it if Victor wants to show them.

So he’ll have to leave for competitions. If he stays permanently, he might even want to get his own place, which would be incredibly painful—Yuuri would be so close to Victor and yet so far. But Victor would be there. The onsen would always be open to him. They could still practice together. When Victor’s gone, it’ll suck, but it won’t be like this. He knows Victor will come back. They’ll get used to it.

Yuuri daydreams for a moment about following Victor to competitions, but he definitely doesn’t have the funds for that, and it’s not like the JMF has any reason to send him along. Maybe if he does choreography or coaching, they might have competitions that overlap…

Well, whatever. That’s the best case scenario, and Yuuri would be happy to have it.

If the worst case scenario comes to pass, Victor partners up with Plisetsky, leaves to Russia, and Yuuri’s not in the picture anymore. No more practicing together, no soaking in the onsen or laying around with Makka, no falling asleep wrapped up in each other.

But… would that be the end?

They have each other’s phone numbers, don’t they? It would be hard, of course, but Phichit and Yuuri still stay in contact. Yuuri fell out of touch for a while, but he’s been good about it since. And he’d do his best to be there for Victor. He _wants_ to be there for Victor.

Not to mention there are competitions in Japan from time to time, and if Victor gets assigned the NHK Trophy in his Grand Prix assignments, maybe Yuuri can save enough to travel and go see him. And with how much Victor loves the onsen, Yuuri might be able to convince him to spend some of the off season in Hasetsu some years.

It hurts to think about the distance, honestly. Yuuri’s been spoiled to have Victor by his side for so long and so constantly, not having to even think about plans for him leaving. And Yuuri knows he can keep going and living without Victor here, but he doesn’t _want_ to have a life without Victor in it. Not because Victor is his idol, not because he’s the world’s most skilled mage in mageia, and not because of his dog, despite Yuuri’s teasing.

It’s because Yuuri cares about the Victor he’s come to know in the quiet moments, in the comforting, liminal space that they created together in Hasetsu. Yuuri cares so deeply that it makes something in him tremble a little to look at it head-on. But he forces himself to look at it now.

Because if he doesn’t want this burning, bright thing inside of him to go out, he has to work for this. He has to reach out to Victor and take the hand that he keeps offering Yuuri, that he keeps running away from.

A bond between them is impossible and Yuuri _hates_ that he’s the reason behind that, knowing it’s his own weakness holding him back from the dream he’s had since he was a child; a dream that he now desires like nothing he’s ever wanted before. It aches, almost, the _need_ to reach out—

But he can’t. He can’t bond with him, they can’t have that.

So Yuuri will reach out in every other way that he can. He can’t give Victor what he asked for, but Yuuri will give _everything_ else that he can. Because, really, do they even need a bond? It already feels like he has one, sometimes. Like Yuuri’s happiness and his pain feels amplified, like it’s almost too much for one person.

Yuuri smiles and closes his eyes, reaching inside himself to his center, to the core of his magic and where his long-neglected bonds lurk. It’s not really so much a _place_ inside him, more of a visualization than an organ _._ But Yuuri feels it in his chest, where his anxiety sometimes ties everything into knots, and where he feels warmth whenever he thinks of Victor. At this point, it almost settles his magic to even just have Victor in his thoughts, even if it’s not as much as his touch soothes.

But when Yuuri reaches out, searching for a link that doesn’t exist between them but he longs for, it _aches_.

And it sucks a _lot_ because Yuuri really wants a way to connect with Victor, to see that he’s alright, to feel him there. He’s desperate in a way he’s never been before for _something_. Even when he was in Detroit and missing his home and his family so much that he could barely move from his bed, it didn’t sting like this. He didn’t almost _need_ it.

So Yuuri reaches with his magic, weak as it is outside of the arena. He stretches, he pushes and claws and scrapes at his limits until it cracks under the pressure, knowing it’s futile, knowing Victor will never feel him, just needing to _try_.

He reaches out into the void, away from his other bonds and toward the person he aches for.

And something reaches back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri says demisexual rights, I don’t make the rules. (Also Victor says demiromantic rights, meet me in the pit and FITE (but also no fighting pls))
> 
> Heyo! I'm back, if you happened to notice that I fell off the face of the earth for a hot minute there! :'D I won't dump it all on you (if you're as curious and nosy as I am, [I documented the drama on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1344095532013088768) and [did a condensed ramble](https://kazul9.tumblr.com/post/640166720475168768/im-back) on Tumblr), but yeah! Prepare for me to catch up on Toungry and Wigs here--I'm planning a chapter every other day for four days but my health isn't doing so hot so... we'll see!
> 
> Thank you all for being so heckin' patient and coming back after that unexpected hiatus. :'D <3 <3 <3
> 
> Also, um. Sorry about the cliffhanger? :'DDD


	23. Twenty-Third

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Possible TW:**   
>  _There is sort of (???) a consent with a bonding issue brought up in this chapter. As Yuuri’s said, bonds have to be wanted on both sides and can be broken by anyone at any time, and will naturally break with malintent. The situation is somewhat akin to getting married while drunk, except not necessarily romantic and much more easily annulled. But if you want more details, please see the bottom of the end notes!*_

No. No, no, no, _no_.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t _possible_.

Yuuri hasn’t—

He can’t have—

But it’s there. It’s right there, his desperate reaching has found… something.

No, not something.

_Someone_.

And he knows exactly who he was reaching for but— but Yuuri doesn’t have a bond with Victor. He can count his bonds on one hand, all the others he’s had are broken and dissolved. And you can’t just make bonds pop out of thin air. It doesn’t work like that. It’s an _agreement_. It’s a promise. You have to reach out, exchange magic willingly and knowingly.

He would have known if he had a bond with Victor. It’s not something that he would forget. It’s not something he _could_ forget. He wouldn’t— He _can’t_ —

Except he can feel the hum of a consciousness against his own. Not panicked—not much of anything at the moment. And this is more than Yuuri’s ever felt before. It feels so _close_ and so _there_ even though he’s not even actively trying anymore. Even for his parents, Yuuri has to reach out and work to feel them there, push to have his emotions known.

Maybe he’s making this up. Maybe he’s so desperate and lonely that he’s made up an imaginary, deep bond with Victor to replace him when he’s gone. Maybe Yuuri _should_ let Victor go back to Russia if he’s losing his mind like this.

First he lost total control of his body, and now it’s his mind. Of course this would happen to him.

But what triggered it? Yuuri feels— Well, he feels okay. More okay than he’s felt in a long time, in fact. Why would he make up some imaginary bond when he’s just eager to get home and see Victor? He’s so close to getting what he wants, at least for now, that this is just ridiculous—even for him.

Except… How can it be real? How does he prove that? After all, there’s a neutral sort of feeling on the other side right now, and if it were a real bond wouldn’t Victor be freaking out? Wouldn’t Yuuri’s magic be ruining him? If Victor’s kept the bond open all this time—though since _when_ , Yuuri has no idea; he’s firmly said no since Victor arrived in Hasetsu—then he might not have noticed Yuuri opening it, considering they’ve somehow never used it before. If they were familiar with each other’s presence, Victor would know the instant Yuuri opened up to him.

But this makes no sense. This can’t be real. But this _has_ to be real. If only he could make sense of it, or get proof, or facts, or anything.

Though…

Maybe he could test the bond?

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut further before he tentatively touches where another mind brushes against his own, a wordless question in his thoughts.

The response is instantaneous, and it hits hard and fast and _a lot_. Yuuri’s not used to this, he’s not used to a bond this deep, or how this Victor thinks, and it’s a bombardment of swirling senses that Yuuri can only describe as a constant assault of exclamation points and question marks in his mind. It’s color and light and sound, so much, an entire other existence pressing into his space and _pushing him out_ —

He slams down his mental walls, piling layers and layers between him and the wave of thoughts and feelings and _everything_ that was just filling his mind.

What was _that_? That wasn’t— Is that _normal_ for other people? There’s no way that Yuuri can do this, he’s too—

“Yuuri? Yuuri!”

Yuuri’s eyes snap open, finding Minako leaning into his space with her hands on his shoulders, a few other passengers looking their way, quickly going back to their business when they meet his eyes.

Yuuri’s gasping in air like he hasn’t been breathing. Has he been breathing?

“Minako?” Yuuri manages to squeak out, his voice wrong and funny in his throat in a way he knows has nothing to do with shifting.

Minako lifts a hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek, and it’s such a motherly, unusual gesture from her that he jumps at the contact, his body trembling all over like a leaf in the breeze.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong?” Minako’s eyes search his face as her frown deepens.

“I, um.” How can he even start to explain this? No, he can’t. He won’t. Not yet. “I don’t know? I— Are we close to Hasetsu?”

Minako glances out the window, as if looking for landmarks though she’s probably been aware enough to listen to what stops they’ve already passed. “Yeah, we’re pretty close. We can get you home soon, don’t worry. Well, don’t worry as much as you can.”

Yuuri gives a shaking smile. Always easier said than done—but Minako knows that. “Sorry,” he murmurs, looking down.

“Hey, it’s fine. But are you _sure_ you’re okay? What happened?” Minako steps back, settling into her seat now and giving Yuuri the space that he needs. She’s always been good at listening to him, even when he’s not saying anything with words.

And Yuuri’s so, so grateful to her, his eyes burning with it. But how does he explain this? Because he sure as hell doesn’t have an explanation. “I… I think I realized something?” Yuuri hesitates, biting his lip. “But I’m not sure exactly what it is. It’s— I think it’s complicated.”

“Is this about Victor again?” Minako arches an eyebrow.

“Maybe?” Yuuri glances out the window, unwilling to see her reaction to that. “It’s not like before, though. This is— This is bigger. Or more complicated, at least. And it might not be Victor?”

Though how would it _not_ be Victor? He was thinking about Victor when he reached out, and those thoughts… Yuuri’s not sure how he knows, but they definitely feel distinctly _Victor_. Overwhelming and a lot, but not in a way that’s aggressive. In a way that’s familiar, and might be comforting in any other circumstance.

Minako frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

_Is_ Yuuri okay?

After something like _that_ , he can’t really be sure. He doesn’t know what’s going on inside him. He doesn’t know how any of this is happening, or if it’s real, or what to do next. He doesn’t know _anything_.

Except he does know that this is related to Victor in some way, shape, or form. And that’s both terrifying and a comfort, but he’s used to feeling that way about Victor. Victor’s presence in his life since he arrived in Hasetsu has been a whirlwind of unexpected and wonderful things, painful decisions and choices, realizations that Yuuri doesn’t know that he’s ready for.

He’ll figure out what’s going on. He has to.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Yuuri’s voice is unsteady as he says it, his world shaking and quaking around him as he hides from the newness in his magic, but he does mean it. “I just… I need to get home.”

Minako stares at him for a long moment, then gives a nod and leans back in her seat, but her eyes never wander too far from him. She doesn’t pick up her book again, but at least she _tries_ not to stare.

It still sets Yuuri on edge.

More than he was before, at least. He can’t stop shifting in his seat, his own eyes flicking around. He can’t help but press against the wall that he just built in his mind. He can’t open it. He _shouldn’t_ open it. After all, new bonds can cause magic to go unstable—

Unstable like Yuuri is.

Yuuri drags in a sharp breath, drawing Minako’s eyes, but she doesn’t ask and he doesn’t answer. That isn’t— No. A bond in the first place is unthinkable as it is, but more than this… And not to mention _when_? At Sochi? He might have done his best to block that memory from his mind, but he still relives every second of every day of that competition from time to time; he can’t escape it. Except for the banquet—but is that even possible?

The speakers blare to life, and Yuuri jumps out of his seat before they even announce that they’re in Hasetsu, running through the doors as Minako calls after him. But he can’t stop, he has to talk to Victor—

Who isn’t here.

_Shit_. He was supposed to text Victor what train they were going to catch, and then Minako took his phone and he was too stuck in his head to think about it.

Well, it doesn’t matter. Yuuri’s good at running, isn’t he?

Yuuri sprints from the station, feet flying beneath him as his magic cracks and sparks beneath his skin like a summer storm rolling in. But he can’t shift now, he needs to have a human mouth, he needs to talk. He fights himself with everything he has, every footfall draining him more and more, but he knows how to struggle against himself.

But even after losing again and again, he keeps fighting.

He can feel the eyes on him as he runs, mostly shifted with his ears and tails and patches of fur out, but he knows that everyone knows about him by now, him and his eccentric foreigner that dragged him out of Yu-topia for all to see.

Yuuri felt it was safe to assume that Victor came here to form a bond to be Yuuri’s partner, that Victor asked him for that multiple times.

But _did_ he? Has he ever asked Yuuri to form a bond? Had Yuuri missed something so obvious this whole time?

Yuuri stumbles over the threshold of the onsen, bursting through the front door and scrambling to take off his shoes as his father gives him a quick greeting. Yuuri barely registers it, trying to say hello back but having it come out as more of a wheeze. He scrambles forward in his socks, not even bothering with his slippers, and the deja vu strikes fast and hard, a sting across his chest as this reminds him of when Victor first came to Hasetsu.

It’s the same and yet so different.

“Yuuri?

Victor’s voice rings out clear even with how Yuuri’s heartbeat thrums in his ears and his breaths rip ragged from his chest as he enters the guest dining area. It’s between mealtimes, so the entire room is empty except for Victor—

And Plisetsky.

Oh.

In all internal chaos of the train ride, Yuuri managed to forget about the tornado of a teenager waiting for him here. Not that it matters right now when something so big and impossible is hanging over him. But he can’t find the breath to _talk_.

“Yuuri!” Victor scrambles to his feet as Yuuri leans against the door frame, catching his breath.

Yuuri holds out a hand, stopping him because he can’t get distracted by Victor wanting to take care of him, he can’t put this off.

Victor’s steps slow until he stops, close, but just far enough away that he can’t touch. Plisetsky stays seated though, glaring quietly from where he sits. It’s such a contrast to the snapping and biting that he attacked them with when he stomped up to Victor and Yuuri at the station, Yuuri can’t help but stare and worry a bit what’s stirring beneath the calm surface.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong? Did you _run_ here? Is Minako okay?” Victor’s hands flutter like he wants to touch Yuuri, but he knows he shouldn’t, and he doesn’t know what to do about that. “Are _you_ okay?”

Yuuri manages to nod, because though he’s not sure he’s totally okay, he is technically physically fine.

Victor lets out a breath and deflates a little in obvious relief. “Then why did you race here, Yuuri? Did you run all the way from the station?”

Yuuri nods again before standing upright and taking a deep breath. “Do we… Do we have a bond, Victor?”

Victor’s jaw drops. Then his eyes slowly widen as the rest of his face goes slack and pale, a look of sheer horror and realization so raw that Yuuri almost winces.

“When?” Yuuri asks, voice cracking on the single word. “ _How_?”

“What the _fuck_?” Whatever calm that Plisetsky had been hiding beneath snaps away as he jumps to his feet and stomps over to them, though he looks a lot less threatening while swimming in one of the onsen’s jinbei than his regular clothes. “How did you not _know_? Are you that much of a moron?”

“No!” The protest slips out of Yuuri’s mouth, and he realizes something that sends his stomach falling toward the floor: explaining why he didn’t know means talking about Vicchan. “I-I wasn’t open, mentally. Right before the Grand Prix Final, I…”

How can he just _say_ it? He hasn’t said it aloud to anyone. Phichit got a text from Mari after Yuuri heard the news, asking him to keep an eye on Yuuri, and Celestino had taken the phone from Yuuri the moment he collapsed to the ground, not able to cry yet, not able to _think_ after he heard the news.

It was never supposed to go like this.

Yuuri thought he still had time. That there was still hope for him to win, and go home proud with a gold medal, and cuddle his dog.

There’s no hope for any of those things now.

Except… he can’t turn back time, but this bond—

“You just make bonds and then _shut them out_?” Plisetsky stomps up to him, shoving his face into Yuuri’s in a way that makes him take an instinctive step back. “What kind of piece of shit are you to do this to them? To _Victor_?”

“Yura, that is _more_ than enough,” Victor snaps, grabbing Plisetsky’s shoulder.

“I told you to stop _calling me that_!” Plisetsky tugs away, almost falling over except Yuuri catches him. He yanks out of Yuuri’s grasp, too. “And don’t touch me you— you—” Plisetsky gives a noise almost like a growl before spitting out Russian too fast for Yuuri to keep up with, though the insult is clear.

Yuuri stands his ground even as his familiar ears tremble. He didn’t _mean_ to do any of this. He doesn’t even know what exactly he did in the first place. He gets that Plisetsky would be angry—if anyone else had done this to Victor, Yuuri would hunt them down himself. It’s good to see someone fighting for Victor. But he just— Yuuri _needs_ answers.

But Victor snaps back at Plisetsky in the same language, his voice rising to match Plisetsky’s, his eyes burning. Angry.

Yuuri takes a step back, his magic buzzing, crackling, threatening to break free. He just needs to know what happened. He just needs to know how he got bonded to Victor, how Victor knows about it when Yuuri doesn’t understand _anything_.

But Plisetsky and Victor just keep arguing and Yuuri has to bend as his spine threatens to shift, his body aching for a form with four legs that would let him _run_.

He fights though. He tries to focus on his breathing, keeping his eyes open and focused on the floor, and—

“Yuuri?” A hand touches his shoulder, and he _yips_. It isn’t soothing, it isn’t Victor, and it _hurts_.

A spark bursts to flame in him, and he struggles against the rolling change trying to push back as his body rips out of his clothes, fur spilling out.

But just like every battle Yuuri fights, it’s pointless.

He’s on all fours, panting with the exertion, and glances up to find Mari standing there with her hands in front of her mouth, brow furrowed, worried. She’s seen him shift fully a few times, but it’s been a long time that he’s done this without a trigger.

Well, there was a trigger to this one. At least he knows that.

He turns back to Plisetsky and Victor—

To find Plisetsky stalking away, and Victor on his knees in front of Yuuri, hands partially outstretched.

“I-I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Victor whispers, like he’s trying to calm a feral animal. Well, Yuuri might as well be one at this point. “I didn’t— We shouldn’t have done that. I should have sent him away. I— I thought you _knew_.”

Yuuri stares at Victor for a long moment before his ears slowly move back, and he shakes his head. No, why would he treat Victor this way if he’d known? Yuuri is a selfish creature, but he wouldn’t have… Well, he doesn’t even know what he would do. It would have been impossible, ridiculous to imagine this reality.

It’s that much now, and so much more.

“It was at the banquet.” Victor rushes to explain, shifting a little closer. “You didn’t seem that drunk—you’d been dancing for so long, so flawlessly, and even when the pole came out—”

Yuuri whimpers, cutting off Victor’s words as his tail tucks between his legs. He did _what_? No. No way he’d be able to do that in public, even trashed.

Except… His dad does stuff like that.

Oh _no_.

Yuuri got absolutely trashed, led Victor on, somehow developed some sort of deep bond with him and then just left, with absolutely no recollection of _anything_. No wonder Yuuri knew his scent. No wonder Victor’s touch and magic felt so nice.

Yuuri rejecting the bond, Yuuri shutting everyone out because of Vicchan, is the reason he’s broken.

He did this to himself.

A quiet whine escapes his mouth without even thinking about it, a sharp, spiky thing growing in his chest.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri glances up, and there’s a palm right in front of him.

He yips, jumping back.

Victor pulls his hand away like it’s been burned.

And Yuuri could reach out, could ask for his touch to help Yuuri shift back. Say he’s sorry without words. But he— He _can’t_. Not right now. Not when his thoughts are screaming in his head, banshees that are slowly but surely driving him insane.

Yuuri will shift back.

He needs space. He needs time. He needs to _think_.

So he does what Yuuri does best:

He runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to everyone who picked up on the hints of this chapters ago! ;D
> 
> Also thank you all so, so much for still being around and supporting this fic!!! <3 I'm slowly starting to catch up on responding to comments when I can and seriously, it means so much!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
> * **TW Continued:** Alrighty, so Yuuri and Victor formed a deep bond at the end of the banquet, which is why Yuuri’s magic is hacked up—which they can begin to fix by breaking or accepting the bond. They are _**NOT**_ cornered into keeping the bond, and it hasn’t even been active or nurtured this whole time, hence the problems. Victor had no idea how drunk Yuuri was, and normally a bond as deep as theirs could not be formed while under the influence except Yuuri has honestly and truly wanted a bond with Victor for a long time. Again, Yuuri could break this at any time (Victor’s been very confused as to why he hasn’t broken it with his reaction, but typically someone has to want to break the bond on purpose or with malicious intent, and Yuuri does want to bond with Victor). Bonds can essentially link thoughts/feelings together by combining magic, and the deeper the bond, the more you communicate. As Yuuri has shown by shutting out everyone in his life, you don’t need to keep a bond open 24/7, so nothing other than extremely strong, obvious emotions in close proximity would have been able to have been sensed by Victor this whole time. Victor feels really shitty about this whole situation and of course will offer to break the bond himself if Yuuri doesn’t want to. Yuuri is overwhelmed and needs time to think, but is more confused than anything. Yuuri feels bad about it too, because he’s Yuuri. Since it’s something easily reversed and doesn’t change much between them besides Yuuri finally knowing what’s going on with him (it explains why Victor’s touch is so soothing, but his attraction to and appreciation of Victor is all his own, as will be thoroughly explored), it’s not too big of a deal that it happened other than ~drama~—but I wanted to give a thorough warning to not take anyone off guard. I know what a bond can mean in other settings!


	24. Twenty-Fourth

Yuuri doesn’t run to hide this time. It’s not panicked, scrambling claws tearing at the pavement as he makes his way through Hasetsu. It’s a measured lope, a steady beat that helps him focus on the task at hand, making sure he keeps breathing and doesn’t run himself so ragged that he collapses.

No, by the time that Yuuri makes it to the beach, he’s panting but could still keep running.

He doesn’t even know how far he could go like this. He wishes he could control it, test the limits.

And he might be able to if he opens up his bond with Victor. A shiver runs through him at the thought, and his pace slows.

It makes a lot more sense, now. Victor was never asking to form a bond. He was asking for Yuuri to accept one that he’d already formed. He wasn’t guessing that the bond might help, he _knew_. And because Yuuri didn’t know, of course he’d shut down even the remote idea of a bond.

What a mess.

With a huff, Yuuri turns and takes a seat on the soft, sun-warmed sand, watching the docile waves roll in and out, in and out. Gulls circle and cry overhead, and the air is salty and briny in just the right combination. It’s calming in a way he’s never really realized that he missed.

Detroit was almost against Lake Erie, and Yuuri and Phichit took a trip out to see it, once.

In a way it was impressive. The Great Lakes altogether have the largest surface area of any body of fresh water on the earth. At least that’s what Phichit read off of the Wikipedia page or whatever as they stood along the rocky shore. And Yuuri could believe it—he couldn’t see the other side of it from where he stood as steady waves rolled in, a consistent noise no matter where he is in the world.

But it still sounded a little different on the rocks as opposed to smooth sand. There was certainly a smell to it, but not the comforting brine that covered Hasetsu. The seagulls cried overhead, but it was just different enough for Yuuri—who spent his childhood running along the beaches of Hasetsu with Mari—to tell the difference.

It was nice, but it had a bit of an uncanny valley sort of aspect to it. Close to what Yuuri wanted, but not close enough.

Luckily, Phichit got bored soon enough and Yuuri escaped without trying to have to put into words why he wanted to leave so badly.

He feels a bit like that now. Not about the ocean, but about himself. He’s not exactly what he was expecting to find when he came back home to Hasetsu, looking for any kind of answer, or escape, or _anything_.

But he’s not sure he wants to run from what he sees this time.

Finding out he has a bond with someone isn’t really a big deal in itself. Yuuri could break their bond right here and now. He could open the bond just to pull back his own magic into his body, and that would be that. He’s never done it with such a powerful bond, but he knows it doesn’t hurt. It’s just a little quiet, afterward. And it would help him get back to normal—probably faster than accepting the bond would. Adjusting to new, powerful, deep magic like Victor’s would take time. It’s not surprising anymore that Yuuri’s stuck like this, he’s just lucky that the bond didn’t lock away his magic altogether. It would be so simple to break their bond.

But Yuuri doesn’t want to.

This is his dream. This is what he always wanted. He wishes he could _remember_ it, and he wishes that he’d known enough to not shut Victor out like this. He’s still afraid to let Victor in. Just because it was their bond that created the problem doesn’t mean that it will heal Yuuri, but it does increase the chances. By a _lot_.

Except that Yuuri still hesitates at even the thought of lifting or breaking through that wall again.

He has a bond with _Victor Nikiforov_. One that’s already deep even though it’s been stifled and underdeveloped. Maybe Yuuri’s just asleep and all of this is a long, complicated dream and he’ll wake up and laugh at himself.

Except he can feel the warmth of the setting sun seeping through his fur, the grains of sand grating against his paws as he shifts his feet, the smell of home drifting through the air. It’s more visceral than anything Yuuri’s ever dreamt before. It’s more real and here and present than Yuuri’s been in a while.

He’s not sure whether he likes that or not.

But regardless of whether he likes it or not, he has to deal with it.

Yuuri sighs and turns his gaze at the sky, blue with wispy clouds painted in broad strokes across it. He knows what he _wants_ to do. He wants to walk right back to the onsen and accept the bond and ask for every detail leading up to it—no matter how embarrassing.

Whatever happened that night, it was enough for Victor to drop his ridiculously successful career and agree to bond with an absolute nobody for a duet program for the next season. And after Yuuri seemingly rejected the bond without breaking it, without saying a word about it, jumped on a plane to Japan at the sight of Yuuri poorly attempting Stammi Vicino.

 _Stay Close To Me_.

Yuuri whines softly and there would be blushing a furious red if he were human. Luckily he can save _some_ of his dignity like this. Unlike Victor rising out of the onsen _naked_ , like his plan was to seduce Yuuri into being his partner or something.

Except… Yuuri’s not so sure about that. Because if this is true, that means that Victor _was_ transferring his citizenship to Japan and working on competing for the JMF long before Yuuri’s video was posted. He was planning on coming to Japan no matter what.

Then _why_ was he like that? That was the dumbest way to try and get something because Victor is terrible at flirting. Yuuri would know, he’s terrible at flirting himself. There are pieces to the puzzle that Yuuri’s missing. He has vague recollections of golden lights and bubbling drinks, arms around him and a smile on his face—but nothing more than that. Nothing telling him even that much isn’t a dream, or a fragment of his imagination.

If he wants the full story, he needs to talk to Victor.

And Victor deserves the full story, too.

Yuuri lets his head fall with a small huff. He didn’t mean to keep Vicchan from Victor. But he didn’t exactly plan on telling him, either. He didn’t want to scratch at a scab that’s still desperately trying to heal—but Victor took a chance on Yuuri, keeps trying to trust him even when Yuuri drops all of his offers on the ground, letting them shatter and walking away.

Yuuri wants to try and trust Victor, too.

He’s not ready to head back, but he’ll never be. He doesn’t know how much time has actually passed, but he feels different than when he left. His magic isn’t a storm churning inside, striking out at anything and everything. It’s the wreckage afterward; calm and steady, but in need of repair.

And he knows the only person who can help him fix it up.

With another sigh—Minako _is_ right, he’s really got to cut back on those—Yuuri gets back to his feet and starts back at a casual pace, but not slow enough that Yuuri feels like he’s procrastinating.

Now that he pays attention, there aren’t as many people staring at him as he’d originally thought. Maybe they’re just used to the sight, or they’ve heard about Yuuri’s troubles, but it’s easy enough to glance at Yuuri and tell he’s not a natural sort of animal, nothing feral and nothing to fear. Some people even wave at him, and he pauses, wondering how to wave back for a moment and decides to give a nod instead of making an idiot of himself and trying to raise a paw.

They seem satisfied enough, smiling at him before going back to their business. And Yuuri’s not sure why, but it makes him feel a bit like smiling, too.

By the time he gets to Yu-topia, the sun is beginning to dip beneath the horizon. But Yuuri feels as if he’s shed a little bit of the darkness trailing him somewhere along his short journey.

He trots up to the side door, finding Mari isn’t waiting for him this time. So instead he wanders back up front and waits for a guest to come through, squeezing past them as best he can and hopefully not giving the poor old couple a heart attack. When he enters the guest dining area, Mari’s busy bringing food out and bussing tables.

But when she spots Yuuri, her eyebrows raise. “You’re back early! Well, for you.”

Yuuri’s ears flick back and he ducks his head, trying his best to look as ashamed as he feels.

Mari snorts. “Are you hungry?”

Yuuri hesitates, but shakes his head. He’s a little hungry, he hasn’t eaten much today, but he has to talk to Victor first.

“Do you need help getting into your room, then?” Mari puts a hand on her hip.

Yuuri shakes his head, and then lets out a huff. He could try and _say_ Victor. But how does he even begin to get a “v” sound with this mouth?

“You’d better be looking for Victor.”

Yuuri’s head whips to the side where he finds Plisetsky digging into a bowl of what looks to be katsudon while glowering at Yuuri.

And Yuuri doesn’t back down, eyes steady and ears pricked forward. He doesn’t have to fear shifting if he’s already shifted, which means he has no reason to shy away from Plisetsky. He can’t say anything that Yuuri doesn’t know about himself. And he’s a _child_. A child with too much free time and too little parental supervision to fly all the way out to Japan on his own.

“Good,” Plisetsky mumbles, and Yuuri preens as Plisetsky looks away first, turning his narrowed eyes to his food. “He’s in his room. Don’t fuck this up. And… sorry. I guess. But you did fuck up.”

Yuuri blinks at the kid for a long moment. He’d never pegged such a young and irritable kid as the type to apologize, but, well. Stranger things have happened.

Plisetsky looks up to glare at Yuuri, but Yuuri just gives a nod before he turns and leaves the room.

It’s odd; there are a lot of smells in the onsen, and he can make out the distinct scents of his family everywhere, settled in throughout the years. But Victor’s scent is heavy in the air too, layered around him from his treks to and fro, helping out with chores, trailing Yuuri to the kitchen for a late night cup of tea on the rare nights where they still can’t sleep.

And it feels right in a way that just makes sense to have Victor be so a part of everything here.

But then Yuuri’s up the stairs and in front of the old banquet room, and there’s no more time for thinking or pondering. He only allows himself a deep breath before he reaches up and does his best approximation of knocking—which is more like scraping—on the door.

Makka’s _thud_ and then tapping paws reaches his ears, and for a few seconds, Yuuri wonders if Victor’s asleep, or maybe just choosing not to talk to Yuuri right now. Which is fair, Yuuri just chose not to talk to Victor, hadn’t he?

Yuuri turns his head, prepared to head back downstairs when there’s the gentle shuffle of feet on the floor. Yuuri holds his breath, but there’s no need. Victor opens the door and instantly looks down at Yuuri, still in his clothes from earlier, but all of him mussed from lying in bed and probably cuddling Makkachin. His expression is blank in a way that is carefully constructed, a mask meant to keep Yuuri out rather than invite him in.

Yuuri’s ears flick back, but he resists the urge to look away, just staring at Victor for a long moment. Yuuri finally gives in to the restlessness crawling through him, pointedly looking past Victor and into the room, then looking back up at Victor with his head tilted in a wordless question.

Victor huffs out a silent laugh even if his expression doesn’t move much, stepping aside to let Yuuri slip in—

And immediately is surrounded by a prancing Makka who licks at his face and playfully nips at him. Yuuri huffs out a choking sort of laugh, nudging at Makka lovingly in return, but without the doggy kisses; he appreciates them when dogs give them, but licking a dog just feels… _weird._

But eventually Yuuri has to break free from Makkachin’s welcome home celebration even if he’d rather _not_ , and he jumps up onto the bed. Which is… weird. It’s not normal to really walk on a bed at all and moving on four legs just makes it stranger. Still, Yuuri manages to turn and tilt his head again in another wordless question that he can only hope Victor understands.

Victor once said he wouldn’t mind if Yuuri shifted in the middle of the night, that he wouldn’t mind cuddling with a big, fluffy, dog-like creature. Is that still true?

Victor just stands there, though. If anything’s changed, it’s that he has a bit of a furrow in his brow, but he isn’t moving. Either Yuuri’s point isn’t getting through, or he’s refusing.

Tail moving in agitated little flicks, Yuuri paws the bed and gives a small whine, _so_ happy that no one can see how much he’d be blushing at this ridiculous situation.

“Are…” Victor clears his throat, taking a step forward. “Are you sure?”

Yuuri nods, but all Victor does take another step in. So Yuuri huffs, carefully steps farther onto the bed and flops down on the side that he normally sleeps on.

It’s quiet for another moment, but then— _finally_ —there’s the hush of Victor’s feet moving across the floor, the rustle of sheets and… and Yuuri’s being covered?

Yuuri lifts his head to glance back at Victor, but Victor only settles on top of the blankets. It’s a moment before Victor rests a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.

And he lets out a soft sigh at the comfort of the contact, because Yuuri may have quelled his own storm, but Victor helps heal the choppy aftermath and what remains.

Except it’s not enough this time. Victor doesn’t stroke through his fur like he had at the beach, and he doesn’t curl around Yuuri like he had on Yuuri’s bed when Victor first arrived.

Yuuri bares his teeth a little. _Fine_. If he has to do it all himself, he will.

He wiggles and pushes himself back until his spine is pressed against Victor, and he leans his head back a little.

Victor splutters, probably getting a mouthful of Yuuri’s fur, and gives a laugh that’s a little more real this time. “Yuuri, are you sure?”

Victor asks this now, after they’ve spent how many nights sleeping in the same bed? _Yes_ , Yuuri would like to cuddle with Victor and let him soothe his magic into something more manageable so they can actually talk while they’re both relatively calm.

So Yuuri whines louder this time, and throws his head back again until Victor’s spluttering and _really_ laughing.

And before Yuuri can think about it, Victor’s other arm slides underneath Yuuri, the hand that was just resting on Yuuri moving to meet it, wrapping around the barrel of Yuuri’s chest and squeezing, so tight but _perfect_ as his fingers weave into Yuuri’s fur but don’t pull. Victor presses his face into the space between Yuuri’s shoulder blades, breathing deeply, and exhales a shaking breath.

“I missed you,” Victor murmurs, and Yuuri knows that Victor’s not only talking about however long Yuuri was at the beach, thinking things through.

Because Yuuri missed him too, so much. And no wonder he felt a pull to be back around Victor if they have a fledgling, neglected bond between them. A noise escapes him that he hopes lets Victor knows he’s _sorry_ , and that he missed Victor too, and— and—

“Shh,” Victor hushes softly, moving his fingers through the fur on Yuuri’s chest and— _oh_. Oh that feels… good. Really good. “I’ve got you.”

Yuuri whimpers softly as he goes limp in Victor’s hold, Victor’s magic seeping through him in a cool, soothing wave.

Despite loving Victor Nikiforov and his illusions of ice and snow from afar, Yuuri’s never been a fan of the cold. But there’s something different about the cool of Victor’s magic, like all of the sting and bite has been taken out, and only the sensation remains. Yuuri would love to sit here and bask in it for hours.

But he has other plans.

Yuuri’s barely aware of when his fur retreats, when Victor’s hands are instead spread against the bare skin of Yuuri’s chest, fingers splayed. And— Ah, Victor thought ahead enough to make sure Yuuri would be covered from the waist down.

Yuuri reaches up, weaving his fingers through Victor’s and holding on tight as a lump rises in his throat, making his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

Victor leans closer and—Victor’s lips press against the back of Yuuri’s neck, gentle and reverent, and Yuuri sucks in a breath. “No, I’m sorry. I assumed _so much_. And I shouldn’t have. I saw you with the champagne. I thought that you couldn’t form bonds under the influence… But I should have known better than to assume that was true.”

Yuuri shakes his head a little. “No, I don’t— I’m not sorry about that. I-I’m sorry that I shut you out, and— I know that it destroyed my magic, and I’ve heard how painful it can be when…”

“When the bond is deep?” Victor’s breath brushes against the back of his neck, and something in Yuuri purrs at the sensation. “It… After you left Sochi, it was…”

Yuuri can hear him swallow, but he doesn’t add on anything else, doesn’t explain. And Yuuri won’t ask him to.

Instead, he untangles their hands, even if the loss of touch makes him ache and reconsider everything he had planned.

But he needs to do this.

Yuuri sits up, turning to look down at Victor.

His hair is splayed against the pillow in a silver halo, his cheeks and nose pink, but Yuuri can’t tell if it’s from tears or something else entirely. And he looks up with those blue eyes unwaveringly focused on Yuuri. No distrust in them, no hatred, nothing but attentiveness and… and something like devotion.

Yuuri reaches down and takes Victor’s hand again, grounding himself in the tide of Victor’s gaze. “I want to explain to you what happened on my end, but first I… I need to introduce you to someone.”

And Victor smiles, just a faint twitch of his lips, but it makes the faint wrinkles around his eyes appear all the same. He gives the gentlest nod, as if there was never another option for him to choose.

And if Victor notices how Yuuri’s pulse races against the tight grip of his hand, he says nothing of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, dumping on the Great Lakes even though I live near one that I love dearly: :’)
> 
> Anyhow! I hope you're all doing well and staying safe!!! And as always thank you all so heckin' for continuing to read this strange brainchild of mine <3 <3 <3


	25. Twenty-Fifth

It takes a few minutes for Victor and Yuuri to move from the bed, regardless of how easily Victor agreed to his request. Even though it’s only been days since they last saw each other it feels longer, it feels _different_. Nothing’s actually changed, Yuuri’s apparently had this bond the entire time he’s known Victor.

And yet everything’s changed.

So much of what’s happened before makes so much more sense now. And in a way, it’s a relief. Because Victor isn’t here on some mission to sabotage his career—though Yuuri could still argue that pairing with _him,_ of all people, for a duet is sabotage in a way. Actually, working out their strangled bond would help if Victor had any magical side-effects. Then again Yuuri hasn’t seen any random feathers from Victor since he’s gotten here.

But it makes sense now why Victor wouldn’t want to form a bond with someone else if he was trying to straighten out this one. And why he wasn’t sure what to do next. All because Yuuri got absolutely trashed at the banquet and probably cornered Victor into fulfilling his childhood fantasy.

And with that thought, Yuuri starts moving, pulling away from the comfortable warmth of the bed to get dressed. Victor leaves him to it, luckily a few of Yuuri’s clothes are stashed in here. Or… a lot more than Yuuri thought, actually. Victor’s closet has more of his things than he remembers seeing.

Yuuri flushes. Did he do this without thinking? Did his mom or dad do it while he was gone? Did _Victor_ do this?

Realistically Yuuri knows that he probably just brought more and more of his things into Victor’s room without realizing, but… Yuuri likes it. He can’t explain why, but their things intermingling, naturally being together without Victor feeling the need to take them out and put them back makes something in him purr with satisfaction.

He tries to shake off the thought as he gets dressed. Mari seems to have been kind enough to pick up his glasses and leave them on the bedside table that Yuuri normally uses. Yuuri can already hear a lecture about how he needs to stop just _leaving_ them there when he shifts because one day someone’s going to step on them before she can grab them, and then he’ll be sorry. The speech he got that time when he shifted while talking to Phichit still haunts him.

But he’ll get that done later.

For now, Yuuri leaves the room, finding Victor leaning up against the wall outside. He instantly stands up straight at the sight of Yuuri, giving him a small, tense smile; like he’s nervous.

It’s not a natural look on Victor’s face.

Yuuri holds out his hand and Victor instantly takes it, the line of his shoulders instantly dropping into something more relaxed and his smile growing.

“Where are we headed? The beach? Minako’s?” Victor chirps, and Yuuri almost starts—but of course Victor expects to leave the house. He told Victor they were going to meet someone, and Victor’s familiar with most of the onsen’s guests and all its residents.

Yuuri just shakes his head. It’s easier to see than explain, and besides, if he thinks too much about it, he might back out. “You’ll see.”

Victor’s brow furrows in question, but he comes along easily when Yuuri tugs him forward, down the stairs and further into the family quarters. If Victor’s ever been back here, it’s never been with Yuuri at his side. Yuuri still comes and visits, of course, but it’s something he always thought important to do on his own.

He doesn’t feel like that was the wrong thing to do before now. More just like this is the right choice for right here and right now. Yuuri opens the door to the quiet room, sunlight spilling in from the distant sunset and giving everything an almost sepia tone.

Victor’s eyes first land on the treadmill that had gotten stashed away in here years ago before flicking toward the intricate carvings along the doors of the butsudan. His eyes widen, but he still doesn’t ask any questions, gaze only wandering toward Yuuri after he’s looked around for a few minutes.

Yuuri guides him toward the altar, instructing him in a whisper, “Sit. Please.”

Victor neatly kneels on the cushion in front of the butsudan while Yuuri opens the doors. And this isn’t exactly _proper_ , how he’s showing Victor, but it feels wrong to not follow tradition as best he can even if Yuuri’s parents can’t be disappointed in him if they don’t know about this visit. Yuuri takes the incense and carefully lights it, shaking out the flame until only embers remain before placing them in their holder and ringing the gong.

Then he takes a seat next to Victor and takes a moment to center himself. Sitting prominently at the front of the altar is a picture of Vicchan and Yuuri, both of them so small and innocent with no idea what lay before them, how everything would end, and all the disasters and small happinesses along the way.

It breaks Yuuri’s heart a little every time he sees it, but at the same time, he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Vicchan’s dog tags lay next to the picture, and it’s still so wrong to see them laying slightly dusty, to not hear them jingling around the onsen as Vicchan chases the heels of his favorite humans. All of this is wrong, not how it was supposed to be. But… it’s not all bad.

“Um.” Yuuri clears his throat, keeping his voice low. “Vicchan, this is Victor. Victor, this is… this is Vicchan.” Yuuri’s voice cracks a little bit on the name, but he pushes through it. “His actual name is Victor, but my mom called him Vicchan and it stuck.”

Victor’s quiet for a moment, and Yuuri resists the urge to run out of the room after admitting he named his _dog_ after Victor. But Victor is always full of surprises, and his next words are no exception.“Just like what Hiroko calls me?”

Yuuri nods, not trusting his voice, and lets out a shaky breath. He wishes that Victor could have met his namesake, they would have loved each other. Not to mention that Makkachin and Vicchan would have gotten along like a house on fire, too—he can only imagine the trouble that they would have gotten into, given the chance.

“Oh.” Victor stares at the picture, one of his hands rising like he wants to take hold of the photo before it falls back to his lap. Instead, he only bows his head. “It’s nice to meet you, Vicchan.”

The lump only grows in Yuuri’s throat, but he fights past it even as his voice cracks and breaks. “Vicchan passed away and it was— it was t-two days before the Final. I hadn’t s-seen him in f-five years.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Victor repeats, but it’s nothing like the last one, his focus shifting to Yuuri. “I’m so, so s—”

Yuuri shakes his head. “Don’t. Please. That’s not why I wanted to tell you. I-I just…”

Victor’s quiet for a long moment, and Yuuri stares purposefully at his hands in his lap, purposefully ignoring the few tears that slip past his guard and plop onto his pants. He keeps thinking he’s over tears, that he’s cried himself dry, but he’s not sure he’ll ever be completely over this loss. There was a good reason that Yuuri initially thought his random shifting was due to grief.

Victor takes a breath, drawing Yuuri’s attention out of himself. “This is why you had everyone shut out, isn’t it?”

Yuuri gives a shaky nod. “I love my family, I really do. But it was… it was a lot. First that lost, and then the Final, and I just— I couldn’t. I needed space. And then this happened.” Yuuri reaches up and tugs at the one familiar ear that seems to have snuck out. “And I— Well, it didn’t make sense, but I thought that grief was the trigger for everything, and that it would get better. And then it didn’t, and I didn’t want to open myself up so that I might hurt everyone that I cared about. But I never— if I knew it was hurting _you_ I would have—”

Victor reaches out and takes Yuuri’s hand, cutting off his rambling. For a moment his thumb just wanders across Yuuri’s knuckles in soothing circles before his voice braves the silence. “It isn’t your fault, Yuuri. You have every right to your privacy while dealing with grief. If it were Makka, I—” Victor cuts himself off, looking down and clearing his throat before continuing. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Yuuri. I should have paid attention to how drunk you were that night. It was the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done, to be honest, and the last thing I expected was for it to be the deepest bond I’ve ever had.”

Yuuri blinks at him. “The deepest?”

Victor gives a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I told you I’d never bonded deeply with any of my partners.”

“I…” So Victor doesn’t have any bonds outside of mageia? Not that Yuuri can really judge, he only has his family. And the little bit that Victor mentioned about his family… “I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, it’s not your fault. But if you regret it, I… I can be the one to break the bond, if you aren’t willing to.”

“What?” Yuuri nearly squeaks. “No!”

Victor’s face goes back to something more carefully neutral, hiding… _something_. “Then… You want to be bonded with me? You don’t want to break the bond?”

“I mean…” Yuuri shifts under the weight of Victor’s gaze. “I… I _want_ to. If you want to. I guess. It’s just… “ Yuuri gnaws at his lip for a moment, but there’s no avoiding this. “I’ve been your fan since you won Junior Worlds with your Lilac Fairy routine. And I’ve been a _big_ fan. You’ve seen all the posters in my room. And I don’t want to be creepy, but to say I daydreamed about being your partner would be an understatement. Yuuko and I used to fight about who would wind up being your partner for the rest of your career.”

Victor’s lips twitch up. “And who won?”

Yuuri sighs. “Yuuko did.”

“Well then, I’m sorry Yuuri, but it seems I have to go bond with her if you two have already decided on it. Who am I to argue with the fate that two of my biggest fans gave me?” Victor winks at him.

Yuuri rolls his eyes. They both know that there’s no way that Yuuko’s leaving the triplets and Takeshi to travel the world and compete. She’s happy to stay in Hasetsu and watch mageia from afar. “That’s not the point. The point is that it’s always been a dream for me, and yeah, opening our bond has a good chance of helping considering it didn’t implode when I, um…”

“You opened it? The bond?” Victor prompts, head tilting slightly.

“I did. I.. I missed you, and I reached out, and I…” Yuuri’s eyes wander back to the picture at the front of the butsudan. If his younger self could see him now, what would he say? What would he _do_? Would he run, or embrace the opportunity?

He likes to think he knows the answer, but he’s not sure.

“And you found me.” Victor squeezes his hand softly.

“I found you,” Yuuri murmurs, looking up to find a smile on Victor’s face. “And I… I want that, but I can’t stand the thought of hurting you. I know that the bond seems stable, and I know that breaking it will make things worse before it makes them better, but…” Yuuri would rather take any sort of pain and discomfort rather than force this existence onto Victor. He can’t even imagine Victor randomly sprouting bits of feathers and half-formed wings. He’d probably look like a deformed chicken, which is _almost_ hilarious enough to make Yuuri laugh, but not quite.

Because if Yuuri accepts the bond and it backfires like that and they’re forced to break it, it would mean that neither of them would recover in time for this mageia season, not with the months it will take for their magic to settle. Victor couldn’t even do Nationals if he wanted without participating in a regional competition first, and he’d need to aim for earlier in the season for that.

Pretty much either way could lead to disaster, and Yuuri can’t stand to do that to Victor.

“M-Maybe… if you wanted to compete, you could bond with Plisetsky.” Yuuri’s eyes flick down. “I don’t want to hurt you, and you made a promise to him.”

Victor picks up their joined hands, bringing them to his chest. “ _Yuuri_. I made a promise to him, yes, but didn’t I tell you? I made a promise to you at the banquet, too.”

“Oh no.” Yuuri glances up at Victor. “What did I say? What did I _do_?”

Victor’s grin softens. “You danced with me—and so many other people. I’d show you on my phone, but I left it upstairs. And then you clung to me until we started swaying together, and you asked to be my partner for the next season and… and I know it sounds silly, but I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. I’ve seen the potential of your programs, and the prospect of being able to help you reach the greatness that lurks in them. And how you were moving that night, with the small, stunning magic that you’d weave between us. And you— you asked for snow, and I did my best outside of the arena, and then you added your own snow to the mix—”

“I did _what_?” Theoretically Yuuri _could_ make snow, he’s _tried_ to—he’s too much of a Victor Nikiforov fan to _not_ —but controlling the weather, even inside an arena, is too much.

Victor’s smile only grows. “You made it snow and we were surrounded by a cloud so thick of it that no one could see us link our hands, or see how our magic joined, the cold snow and the illusion of it merging for one, amazing moment, and I knew that I had to know more about you. I knew that it was _right_.”

“And then I left,” Yuuri murmurs, voice strained.

“No, you did what you had to do while not knowing what happened that night.” Victor shakes his head, exasperation clear in the lines of his face. “Yuuri, you’ve _suffered_ and it’s my fault.”

“But— What you had to think of _me_ after all that…” Yuuri’s lips tremble. “I can’t hurt you more. You should bond with someone else and compete, I… I can’t.”

Victor shakes his head, then looks away to the butsudan, eyes searching for something that Yuuri can’t see. “If you _knew_ it wouldn’t hurt me, you’d want this bond?”

Yuuri nods, no hesitation even as his gut churns. “Yeah, of course I would.”

Victor takes a breath and looks back to Yuuri, raising their hands and pressing a kiss to Yuuri’s knuckles like it’s natural, like it’s meant to happen and doesn’t set Yuuri’s heart racing. “I… I didn’t tell you before, because I didn’t want you to feel like you _had_ to do this. I didn’t want you to feel cornered— But you do feel cornered right now, don’t you?” Victor brings their hands down to his own lap, staring at them. “Yuuri, when this ailment hit you, right after Sochi, you lost control and couldn’t help but shift. You couldn’t hide that. But I… I could hide my own scar. I managed. But I didn’t last too much longer than you.”

Victor takes a shaking breath. “I can’t shift at all anymore. I can’t use my magic, even in an arena.”

Yuuri just… stops. His brain stops, his breathing stops, he wouldn’t be surprised if his heart stops as the weight of Victor’s words settle deep within him, stabbing through his core.

Yuuri has had it bad with his magic lashing out, making him lose control. His body is wild and feral, the shape of it long since out of his own control.

But what would it be like if he had _no_ magic? To lack the comforting hum of it, the _aliveness_ of it thrumming through him.

Except… that can’t be true. Yuuri frowns. “But if you didn’t have access to your magic, how did you compete at Worlds?”

Victor lets out a huff of a laugh, but there’s no humor to it. “I don’t know. This affected you right after Sochi, right?”

Yuuri gives a nod.

“Well.” Victor shifts his bangs so that they’re away from his face. “Maybe it was because I knew about the bond, and I tried to keep it open. I never closed off our connection on my side, and my magic was a little more lenient on me. But almost immediately as I left the arena I felt… It was like a tug, something strong that pulled my magic from me the moment that the arena’s power left me.”

Yuuri frowns, focusing on their clasped hands, the warmth between them. There was nothing happening that day, nothing different. What would have changed between them? Except—

Oh.

“That was the day that I performed Stammi Vicino.” Yuuri’s eyes grow round as he looks up at Victor. “I-I don’t know if that has anything to do with it, but— I’m so _sorry_ Victor. I had no idea. About _any_ of this. And I… I just…”

“It’s okay.” Victor attempts to soothe, his voice a little too quick as Yuuri’s breathing picks up. “Yuuri, I’m not angry about it. Even if you performing my routine did that, I’m more grateful than anything.”

“ _Why_?” None of this makes sense. It never made sense, and Yuuri thought that he was starting to make heads and tails of the situation, but after this conversation he feels even more confused than at the beginning.

“Because it brought me back to you.” And Victor smiles like the sun emerging from clouds in the dead of winter, so bright and such a relief after everything that a part of Yuuri melts as he basks in it.

And for the first time it strikes Yuuri that he might not have to let go of this. Not for a long time, at least. Victor doesn’t have to follow Yurio in order to compete; in fact, he _can’t_.

Victor came to Japan for Yuuri and somehow, miraculously, he still wants to stay.

“You look exhausted.” Victor squeezes their hands as his smile fades to something less striking but about just as beautiful. “We don’t have to decide or do anything right now. I loved meeting Vicchan, but now how about we eat dinner and rest a little? I know Minako’s probably worried about you, and you haven’t said hello to your family, yet.”

Yuuri nods dumbly, following Victor’s tug as he gets up, only pausing to make sure everything’s in order before he walks out with Victor, hands still clasped, side by side.

Yuuri never thought he’d see the day where he would be walking _with_ Victor Nikiforov instead of chasing his shadow, trying to catch up to his footsteps. To be honest, he’s not sure that he’s earned it.

But regardless of how Yuuri feels, Victor doesn’t leave him.

And would it really be so bad to live his dreams to the fullest and offer the same to Victor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Canon: When Yuuri howled and Victor didn’t come, that’s when it made it so Victor couldn’t transform. You’re welcome~
> 
> I hope you're all doing well and managing to slay 2021!!! I'm waiting in limbo myself, and also hella exhausted so I'm gonna take a nap after posting this. :D Thank you all so, so much for reading <3 <3 <3


	26. Twenty-Sixth

“Are you idiots done finally? I’m _starving_.”

Yuuri jumps at the sound of Plisetsky’s voice as they enter the family dining room and _how_ does Yuuri manage to keep forgetting about this kid after spending _days_ worrying about him?

Except… now that things have settled a little, now that Yuuri has some sort of claim on Victor, he’s not as worried.

Either that, or he’s so absurdly tired that he just doesn’t care anymore. It could honestly be either. As they made the short walk over here, Yuuri’s limbs got heavier step by step as relief washed through him, and he’d honestly go straight to bed if he weren’t so hungry.

No matter what it is, Yuuri holds Victor’s hand a little tighter as he walks in, dragging him over to sit right next to each other, and Victor doesn’t complain when Yuuri presses his thigh against Victor’s. If anything, his smile looks a little delighted as Yuuri leans close.

Plisetsky rolls his eyes. “Stop being disgusting at the table. Our food should be ready soon.”

“You ordered food for us?” Victor turns his smile toward Plisetsky, though it gains a harsh undertone. “How adorable! You _do_ care!”

Plisetsky snorts, his eyes flicking over to Yuuri and then back to Victor. “No, you idiots, I just know that Yakov would have your head if you came back to Saint Petersburg without having taken care of yourself. You’re already out of shape as it is. You’ve gone all _soft_.”

“For the very last time, Yura, I am _not_ going back to Russia, and there’s absolutely nothing you can say or do that would convince me otherwise.” Victor’s tone stays cheery, but the edge of his expression only sharpens.

Plisetsky’s face goes red enough that Yuuri briefly worries about spontaneous human combustion before he realizes that _another_ tantrum is about to happen. Yuuri’s magic feels calmer than it has in weeks, there’s a pretty low risk of him shifting again, but he’s _tired_ and he doesn’t want to deal with it.

“Where’s Victor’s phone?” Yuuri interrupts, then yawns and leans his head against Victor’s shoulder. It only seems to make Plisetsky go redder, which, good. Victor is his for right now, and it feels nice to lean on him. “I want to see the pictures from the banquet.”

Plisetsky tsks, even as he fishes out two phones from his jacket pocket. “You think he has the most pictures? Who the hell do you think was watching it all after you had the gall to challenge _me_ to a dance battle.”

“That you decidedly lost,” Victor happily adds on before he gasps. “Wait, you have pictures I don’t have?”

“Probably,” Plisetsky grumbles, shoving his phone across the table at Yuuri. “Just don’t delete any, okay?”

“Oh? Are you worried about losing your precious pictures of my dear Yuuri?” Victor smirks as Yuuri picks up the phone.

“Shut _up_ you—” Plisetsky breaks off into furious Russian, such a long spew of it that Yuuri’s honestly a little impressed that he managed all of that in one breath.

Victor responds in a teasing tone, the words lilting yet rough off his tongue in a way that memorizes Yuuri until the phone screen in front of him dims, and he taps it as quick as he can—he doesn’t think that Plisetsky would be kind enough to unlock it twice for Yuuri.

And he freezes.

Yuuri doesn’t remember this. He flicks forward, watching his drunk self get more and more into absolutely _destroying_ Plisetsky. Yuuri never thought he was great at hip hop, but apparently he just needed to loosen up because the pictures may be still, but they indicate that Yuuri absolutely has the potential that all his instructors insisted he had. And poor Plisetsky is too stuck in classical dances to really keep up to him.

Next is— Oh _no_ , what are pictures like _these_ doing on a child’s phone? How did he get so nude? Where was Celestino during this? _How did a pole get into the ballroom_? And then, of course, Chris shows up and everything makes sense. Yuuri scowls. He’s such a terrible influence.

He flips through those until… He pauses.

He has more clothes on now, but Victor’s there. A cautious but playful Victor, approaching Yuuri. He looks… different. Yuuri’s not sure exactly what it is, but he’s _different_. He flips forward, smiling a little as Victor comes closer, the small grin on Victor’s face growing more genuine. And then… then Victor’s in his arms. And they’re so _close_ , Victor’s body pressed to Yuuri’s, so full of trust as he gives Yuuri his weight.

No wonder Victor thought Yuuri wasn’t so drunk.

Yuuri reaches for any memories of this, any ringing bells. He thinks he remembers the press of a body against his, the golden light and thrumming music, and he _definitely_ remembers the taste of champagne, but everything’s so hazy.

He flips to the next picture, and a small sound escapes his mouth. Victor looks so happy. No, _radiant_. And Yuuri looks the same, their faces so close together as they seem to move as if no one else is in the room. Snow falls around them, shimmering in the camera’s lens in a way only illusions do.

Yuuri moves to the next photo, but there’s not much to it. It’s almost all snow and… and Victor was right. Some of this snow doesn’t shimmer in the camera’s lens. Some of this is real, something that Yuuri made. And barely visible through the thick snow are two figures, their hands together, maybe entwined, their foreheads pressed against one another.

A distant sensation flickers across Yuuri’s mind, the feeling of being wrapped in Victor’s magic, feeling it running through him, cool and warm all at once as something builds and then _snaps_ into place between them—

Yuuri gasps, dropping the phone on the table, bringing his hands up to clasp at his shirt above his racing heart. Was that… It _had_ to be real. Yuuri’s heart thumps in his chest, his magic crackling, _threatening_ to break free from his grasp, reaching for—

Yuuri knows what it’s trying to break free and grasp, now.

“Yuuri?”

Victor’s still next to him, a hand raised as if he were about to reach out and comfort but got too scared—

And _that_ won’t do.

Yuuri leans forward and wraps his arms tight around Victor’s waist, pressing his face against his chest. “I’m sorry,” Yuuri gasps, trying to settle the sharp contrast between _now_ and _then_.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Yuuri.” Victor’s beginning to sound like a broken record, and a lying one at that. But before Yuuri can protest, Victor’s arms wrap around him, hands stroking soothing circles onto his back as Yuuri goes limp. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri huffs out a breath. Well, _no_ , he’s not okay, and he won’t be okay for a while. But he doesn’t know how to talk about all of that yet. For now, he says, “I can’t believe I pole danced. In front of _sponsors_.”

Plisetsky snickers.

Yuuri turns to shoot him a look. “That’s a bold reaction from someone who got their ass kicked in front of sponsors.”

Plisetsky’s mouth drops, and Yuuri smirks.

And Victor _guffaws_. And it’s so unguarded and lovely that Yuuri gets wrapped up in it for a moment.

And then a long-suffering sigh echoes from the hallway. “I see they’re at it again.”

Yuuri sits up a little straighter but doesn’t let go of Victor. “Mari!”

She smiles crookedly. “Good to see you’re doing okay.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Plisetsky grumbles as she sets down food in front of him. “I need to get away from these two.”

Mari’s smile grows into a smirk, one Yuuri’s learned to dread. “You’re welcome, _Yurio_.”

“Hey!” Plisetsky slams his fist against the table. “Stop it with that dumb nickname! It doesn’t even make _sense_.

Mari sets the rest of the food down in front of Victor and Yuuri, before turning back to him. “If you want to stop getting treated like an ass, stop being an asshole.” Mari quirks an eyebrow at Plisetsky— _Yurio_ —and then strides confidently from the room as Yurio glowers.

“You should eat up, Yurio.” Yuuri smiles as he untangles only as much as he needs to so that he can eat.

Yurio splutters in a way that vaguely resembles a hissing cat, but Yuuri pays him no mind as he digs in, almost robotic in his motions. He hasn’t really slept that much over the past few days, despite being busy with travel and helping Minako in the arena. And then he came home to his entire world shifting, breaking apart and reforming into something he never could have imagined…

Okay, maybe he has a few reasons to be tired.

The family katsudon recipe is the perfect blend of sweet and savory, the rice always perfectly cooked, the scrambled egg wonderfully scrambled, and the pork crispy and hot, but Yuuri doesn’t have as much energy to hum and haw over it like Victor always does. By the time his bowl is empty, Yuuri just stares blankly while Yurio glares at him from across the table.

Victor rubs a hand against Yuuri’s arm, leaning in a little closer. “Time for us to head to bed?”

Yuuri hums in agreement, letting himself lean into Victor’s touch. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to sleep right away after so much upheaval, but cuddling in bed with Victor is nice.

“What? The sun _just set_ , are you two old men?”

“Oh, Yurio.” Victor waves his free hand at the growling teenager. “We’ve had a couple of long days! I’m sure you can find entertain and put yourself to bed. Unless you need me around to hold your hand? Read you a bedtime story?”

“Ugh, of course I don’t, stop being dumb. Take Katsudon and get out of here if you’re just going to be a jerk.”

Yuuri blinks. “Katsudon?”

“Yeah.” Yurio crosses his arms. “If I have to have a shitty nickname, so do you.”

“Oh.” Yuuri blinks, looking up at Victor who’s staring down at him with a small smile, almost… fond. “Okay.”

Yurio scoffs. “That’s _it_? That’s your reaction to being named after food?”

“Yep!” Victor gets to his feet, pulling Yuuri up with him. “Come on, Makka!”

Makka’s head pops up from Yurio’s side of the table before she leaps over it to join them, panting happily—she must have wandered down here when she left the bedroom with Victor earlier.

“Good, take the mangy mutt,” Yurio mutters, giving an exaggerated scowl that’s obviously hiding something else underneath. “Cats are less work, I won’t be responsible for that thing.”

Yuuri almost offers to have Makka stay with Yurio if he’d really miss her, but he’s starting to get the idea that this kid might be even more tired and grumpy than Yuuri is. At the very least, he’s definitely not open to anything that comes out of Yuuri’s mouth. So after a quick wish goodnight, Yuuri and Victor make their escape as Yurio mutters behind them.

Getting ready for bed passes in a blur that Yuuri can barely remember by the time he crawls into bed, shortly followed by Victor, settling across from him.

Yuuri frowns. He hasn’t been gone long enough that Victor should be out of their habits already. He shifts forward until he’s close enough that he throws his arms around Victor’s waist and pulls him closer.

Victor sucks in a quick breath before he lets it back out shakily, entwining their legs and pressing forward, but not ducking his head in, not yet at least. He just stares at Yuuri, bringing up his hands to cup Yuuri’s face and strokes his thumbs along the bone of his cheeks. And he smiles so gently, so beautifully, that it’s almost too much to take.

Yuuri lets his eyes fall shut, letting himself enjoy the touch without having to think too much about this, or what’s written on Victor’s face. This day’s been enough of a revelation without Yuuri having to consider anything else. Not that Yuuri doesn’t still have questions of course. A _lot_ of questions, honestly. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask just one…

“Can I ask you a question?” Yuuri murmurs, cracking his eyes open.

Victor’s eyes wander Yuuri’s face. “Yes, but only if I can ask one in return.”

Yuuri gives a small huff and rolls his eyes. Tit for tat, he guesses. “Okay. Sure.”

“You first, then,” Victor murmurs into the quiet, as if afraid of breaking the moment. It’s not like anyone would hear them, Yuuri’s family is still busy downstairs, he can faintly hear the din of a good day at the onsen.

But Yuuri finds his voice is quiet, too, when he braves the silence between them with his question. “Why did you dance with me at the banquet?”

Victor blinks, as if the question takes him by surprise. Which, well, it is a bit out of nowhere if you aren’t in Yuuri’s head. And even then…

Victor gives a soft laugh. “Well, you asked me to as a prize for you winning the dance battle with Yurio.”

“Oh.” Yuuri tries not to sound disappointed, but he’s not sure if he succeeds. “That’s the only reason?”

Victor goes quiet again, just looking at Yuuri, and this time Yuuri fights the urge to look away, taking his turn to study Victor. It’s amazing that, for as often as Yuuri stared at this man’s face in pictures and through television screens, he can still find new things to take in. Like those feathering lines around his mouth and his eyes, the faint freckles along his cheeks that Yuuri kind of hopes he sees more of as Victor spends some time in the sun. And his _eyes_. As cool as the magic running in his veins, but so stunning and lovely that Yuuri wishes he could keep staring at them forever. He knows that if it were light enough he could see little green specs in them, and he mourns a little that it’s nighttime, even if that means he gets to cuddle like this.

It’s so strange to want this so much. To want to fall asleep with this one, specific person laying next to him every night. It’s insane to think he can have this.

But he _does_ have it.

When Victor speaks, it takes him a moment to even remember the conversation at hand.

“Well, I did want to dance with you before you asked. To be honest, I’d been thinking about it for a while by that time. But…” Victor takes in a breath, eyes flitting away for just a second. “I’ll be honest, I was a little afraid of you.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, shuts it, and his brow furrows as he tries to understand what Victor means. He fails. “What?”

Victor’s smile gets a little shaky at the edges, but he doesn’t hesitate or turn away this time. “You were too vibrant, too alive, too beautiful. I was afraid I would drag you down to where I was. I felt like just a husk after another empty win with a performance I couldn’t connect with. I was nothing.” Victor’s eyes “And then… you gave me something. Whatever it was I needed, you put it in my hands and I’ve been trying my hardest to keep my grasp on it since.”

“I…” Yuuri’s eyes sting, and he blinks rapidly to keep them from filling with tears. He couldn’t have done that. It was Victor that brought meaning to Yuuri’s life. It was always Victor. But… He can hardly wrap his mind around it working the other way around. Especially considering what Yuuri did with Yurio, and Chris. But he remembers that grin on Victor’s face as he placed all of his weight in Yuuri’s very drunk hands.

It didn’t look like any of the smiles he’s ever seen Victor give in any of the pictures or videos Yuuri’s seen of him.

“Okay.” Yuuri’s voice breaks over the word, and he clears his throat. Victor thankfully doesn’t comment on it. “Your turn. What’s your question?”

“Oh!” Victor’s grin fades a little, even if his tone stays light, like he doesn’t even realize it. “Why did you perform Stammi Vicino if you didn’t know about the bond? It’s a complicated program even without having your own magic fighting you. Just the choreography requires massive attention to detail, and you… How you performed it was masterful.”

Yuuri scoffs even as his face heats, and he looks down at the little space between them. “I know it was a butchering of your program, you don’t have to lie to me.”

Victor’s hands cup Yuuri’s chin, gently guiding him back up to meet his eyes.

Victor isn’t smiling anymore. “I would have come even if it were terrible, but it _wasn’t_. It was chaotic, yes, but it was… desperate. It was perfect. It hurt to watch, but only because of the emotion you put into it. I wouldn’t lie to you about something so important.”

“Oh,” Yuuri breathes. “I-I’m sorry, I…”

“I’ll forgive you if you answer my question.” Victor gives him a wink as he grins down at Yuuri.

Yuuri grumbles and ducks down, hiding his face beneath Victor’s chin so he can’t see Yuuri’s ridiculous blush. Victor’s hands move instead to Yuuri’s back, arms tight around him and he shifts his head so that his cheek rests on Yuuri’s crown.

Yuuri really doesn’t want to answer. But Victor’s been brutally truthful and open with Yuuri, and Yuuri wants to return the favor. He gives a sigh.

“So, we’ve kind of established I’m a fan, right?” Yuuri murmurs against Victor, half-hoping that he can’t hear Yuuri.

But Victor gives a hum of acknowledgment, much to Yuuri’s chagrin.

“Well… When Yuuko and I were younger, we used to learn new techniques by imitating you. You practiced a different kind of magic, and your skillset was way out of our league, but it was fun. And I enjoyed mageia more than anything else before I knew about you, but then I saw you perform your Lilac Fairy solo and… I’ve loved it ever since.”

Yuuri pauses, taking a breath while he tries to organize his thoughts while his brain works so slowly. “I was tired of being beaten down and apathetic after… after everything. I was tired of being tired. Phichit dragged me back to the arena a few times, but I just couldn’t stomach my own programs. So I wanted to do something fun. Something that meant more than my own programs, but I’d never compete with. And I know you have plenty of other programs, but I just… I _got_ Stammi Vicino. I felt it. It made sense to me, and it let some of the loneliness and listlessness out and made me remember why I loved mageia and all of it in the first place. Even if I can never compete again.”

Victor’s quiet for a long moment, before he lets out a breath that Yuuri more feels than hears. “You can go back, you know. Whatever you decide to do here and now, it doesn’t have to be over for you. I’m sorry that you ever felt like you were forced to stop. I…”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” Yuuri clings to Victor tighter, eliminating any space remaining between them, as if he can make Victor absorb the truth of Yuuri’s words through skin contact.

Victor’s heart beats to a quick rhythm inside the chasm of his chest. Yuuri nuzzles against Victor’s collar bone, wishing that he could calm it, calm Victor, but his mind is too thick and too bleary to think of anything. All he hears is a quiet hitch of Victor’s breath, and then the steady beat of his heart, luring Yuuri closer and closer to oblivion as it thumps ever onward.

Yuuri’s only moments from sleep when Victor’s head shifts, his lips pressed to Yuuri’s hair.

“I could say the same thing.” Victor murmurs, voice just slightly cracked. “You’re the most important thing in this world to me.”

And Yuuri’s not sure whether those words are a dream or reality, but he holds them close to his heart as he drifts off, regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I legitimately forgot it was a Wednesday by the time I could sit down to post this--Noona got spayed today and I was hella worried ([she's okay though](https://twitter.com/Kazul9/status/1357112009255395329)) I'm extremely out of it and in a ton of pain today, and generally I suck at knowing what day it is because the brain fig is REAL. So here!!! I'm tossing it at you before taking my migraine meds and hopefully passing out.


	27. Chapter 27

Yuuri’s the first to wake up in the morning.

Victor really must have not slept much while Yuuri was away. It makes sense in a way, considering Victor was the one to text Yuuri so late on that first night they were away from each other. But it’s so strange to think that this isn’t just Yuuri being _Yuuri_ , that he’s not reading too much into this whole situation.

Except everything about this situation is different than Yuuri had thought. Everything is even more strange and surreal by the light of the morning.

Including Victor still being asleep.

It’s not completely unheard of for Yuuri to wake up first, it’s happened a couple of times before. Honestly, Yuuri enjoys the moments that he gets to look at Victor completely unguarded. He felt a little creepy the first time, like he was infringing on something he shouldn’t see, stepping into a place he wasn’t allowed. But Victor did invite him into his room. And besides, it’s not like he hasn’t woken up to Victor looking at Yuuri, eyes soft and happy in the light of the morning.

Not that it really makes sense that Victor does that. When Yuuri looks at Victor now, it’s with a sort of reverence. Not for Victor Nikiforov, the most awarded and highest praised mage to ever grace the world with his performances—though, okay, maybe a touch of that when Yuuri’s early morning brain fog can’t make peace with the reality that is his life. Instead, Yuuri can’t help but be in awe of the person behind all of that. The version of Victor that’s all too human, whose skin is warm against Yuuri’s, whose breaths come out slow and even in that ridiculous whistle, whose hair is an absolute mess and yet somehow still looks incredibly soft.

He’s beautiful.

Yuuri’s been told that when he gets very drunk he’ll go on long rants about how Victor Nikiforov is a piece of art that belongs in a museum, and normally this is one of the few things that drunk Yuuri and sober Yuuri can agree on. But Yuuri right here and right now would disagree.

There’s something different about Victor Nikiforov since Yuuri’s gotten to know him, something that’s slowly shifted since he’s come to Hasetsu and he went from being The Victor Nikiforov to just Victor. Something that almost seems separate from any bond that exists between them.

 _Oh_. Yuuri makes a soft sound, almost a squeak but not quite, as his eyes grow round.

He has a bond. A deep bond. With _Victor Nikiforov_.

The teenager in him screams a little. The adult in him sort of wants to faint. He ends up in some weird space between, his stiff body trembling a little as reality sinks in.

It’s not that he didn’t understand exactly what happened yesterday. It was just a _lot_. And he’s been so tired. And Victor—

Victor’s just Victor.

Except he’s also not. Victor came here not to form a bond with Yuuri, but to make use of their bond and become partners, even if their magic is all screwed up from said bond and it’ll take a _hell_ of a lot of work to fix it as opposed to if Victor just broke it off when he realized it was hurting him.

No, Victor had already made a commitment. Long before Yuuri’s Stammi Vicino went viral, Victor had chosen _Yuuri_ of all people. Yuuri almost wants to say it’s a whim.

But he knows Victor better than that. Victor calculated and took a risk that was worth it to him. Yuuri was worth it to him.

How? In what world has Yuuri ever done enough to impress Victor? To bond with him after only a few dances? How did he lure Victor in with the allure of drunk, fun Yuuri and then somehow keep him here with dull, unremarkable and sober Yuuri?

Yuuri reaches up with a shaking hand, using a finger to gently brush away a few strands of Victor’s hair.

It is as soft as it looks, despite the mess of it.

But Yuuri only gets to marvel at that for one second before Victor’s arms tighten around Yuuri, and his eyes flutter open. They stare at each other for a long moment, and Yuuri’s sure that he looks like a mess. His bedhead always looks like he’s been electrified, and his eyes are wide from—from _way_ too many feelings, and oh _no,_ he’s still touching Victor’s hair.

Yuuri yanks his hand back.

But Victor only smiles gently, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You can touch all you want.” His voice is rough with the dry gravel of morning, and it only makes Yuuri flush _more_.

“But— You—” Yuuri takes a breath, organizing his thoughts. “I didn’t ask first.”

Victor huffs, and it takes a moment to realize it’s a laugh. “Yuuri. We’re in the same bed together. I’m holding you, and you’re holding me. Our legs are between each other. If I didn’t want you touching my hair, I wouldn’t want to sleep with you.”

Yuuri’s almost grateful he’s already flushed, because _that_ would have made him burn instantly if he wasn’t already. He doesn’t pull back, though. He doesn’t want to. “You _want_ me to touch your hair?”

Victor’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out as the bridge of his nose and the curve of his cheekbones slowly turn a dusky pink.

Which, well, is an answer in and of itself. And Yuuri doesn’t know exactly what it means, and he’s not sure he wants to know, but he _does_ know that he does actually really want to touch Victor’s hair again.

So he does.

Victor lets out a sigh, going even more limp as Yuuri runs his fingers through his hair, pressing along his scalp before gently moving and pulling the tangles out.

Victor only lets out a hum as Yuuri works, nuzzling closer whenever Yuuri lets his nails—fully human—scratch a little against his skin.

Victor’s so open and gentle and vulnerable like this. And it’s not as if Yuuri hasn’t seen him in this state before, nuzzling into the pillows and refusing to move after particularly brutal days at Minako’s. But this time Yuuri’s doing this to Victor. And Victor trusts him enough somehow, after everything, to be like this around him. They share a bond, yeah, but that doesn’t _change_ a person’s emotions about someone. That’s how bonds end up breaking, after all. People change, relationships break.

But even after Yuuri did everything that would have made any other person break their bond, Victor stayed. Victor took a chance on Yuuri, again and again. His idol had faith in _Yuuri_ of all people, enough so that—now, after all the misunderstandings and the ways they accidentally hurt each other—Victor’s limp and trusting in Yuuri’s arms.

This is just Victor. This is Victor Nikiforov. They’re somehow one in the same.

And he’s somehow bonded with Yuuri.

And Yuuri… Yuuri wants it. He wants to have it, to own it, to _feel_ it so desperately that his body suddenly aches for it like air, his magic hissing and popping inside of him at just the idea of it.

“Victor,” Yuuri whispers, smiling as Victor only opens his eyes to a sliver of blue to see him. “I want the bond.”

Victor’s brow furrows—and that won’t do. “Are you sure? You just learned about everything yesterday. And you didn’t want it before. Don’t think you have to do this for me, I’ll be fine.”

“No.” Yuuri’s voice is firm, almost startlingly loud in the quiet of the early morning. “I only said no before because I didn’t want to hurt you. I— It’s still hard to think that this is something you want, but I… I mean, I told you how Yuuko and I daydreamed about being your partner for years. And now I met you, and I know you, and I just… I want it. If you want it.”

“Yuuri.” Victor’s hands move against Yuuri’s back, and he leans his head down—Yuuri’s hands still tangled in his hair—to press his forehead against Yuuri’s. “I would have never agreed to it in the first place if I didn’t want it. I wouldn’t have applied for Japanese citizenship. I wouldn’t have flown half-way around the world for it. Why would you think otherwise?”

“I just…” Yuuri’s eyes flick down to stare at Victor’s chin, hoping it makes the words easier to say. It doesn’t. “It just doesn’t make sense. I’m nowhere near your skill level. I’m nothing special. I know those facts and I’ve lived with them for years, and I just can’t stop thinking about how I can’t be a good match for you.”

“You’re a _perfect_ match for me.” All the sleepiness is gone from Victor’s voice, as firm and loud as Yuuri’s now. “If I wasn’t completely sure, I wouldn’t have done everything I’ve done. You have so much potential, Yuuri, and it’s a tragedy that no one’s explored that with you.”

Yuuri lets out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“Like what?” Victor’s hands spread wider against Yuuri’s back, and if it were anyone else, the gesture might feel possessive and uncomfortable. But with Victor it makes him feel safe, supported.

“I just… I know all this. But sometimes my mind refuses to believe it. Which I hate, because I _want_ this.” Yuuri finally looks up and meets the brilliant blue of Victor’s eyes, letting him see the truth of Yuuri’s expression. “I want this bond. I want to perform with you. I want it all.”

“Then you can have it.” Victor’s smile is so gentle, so honest, that Yuuri doesn’t get the chance to doubt the words. “I can show you, if you’ll let me.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows. “How?”

Victor gives a small laugh, more of a breath than anything. “The bond. I’ve never closed my end, not once since we made it in Sochi. If you want it, it’s yours to take.”

For a long moment, Yuuri just stares at Victor. He really means this, doesn’t he? He’s leaving his fate and his future in Yuuri’s trembling hands. He trusts Yuuri without rhyme or reason.

But… that’s not like Victor. No, he always has a plan or a reason, even if it’s not obvious or ends up being strange to Yuuri’s mind. He doesn’t just do things. He never just chooses things without thought. Something about Yuuri drew him in and made him _believe_ that they could compete together. Something made him invest in Yuuri’s family, and then made Yuuri’s family invest back to the point where Victor made a _routine_ for them. Something kept him believing in this, in _them_ , despite all the odds, because to him it was worth the gamble.

Maybe it shouldn’t be weird to realize this while Yuuri’s lying in Victor’s bed, sharing Victor’s air, skin pressed against skin in the golden glow of the easy morning light, but… Victor wants this as much as Yuuri does. And maybe they’ll both end up regretting this. Maybe they’ll flop out at the regional level before they even get a chance to truly show the world what they’re capable of.

But Yuuri wants to try. He wants to take Victor into his heart and soul and dance with him, perform with him, and take back all of the hurt and heartbreak of Sochi and turn it around. He wants to show the world that he _is_ more than capable of standing in the same arena as Victor and not only just keep up with him, but be his equal.

Yuuri wants Victor.

With a shaking breath, Yuuri reaches inside himself to the same wall that he’d hastily thrown up in a panic yesterday, thick and ugly with his sheer panic. And then he digs his claws and his teeth in, and he tears. He picks it apart piece by piece until—for the first time in months—Yuuri willingly has an open bond between himself and another person, and he doesn’t want to close it off.

Victor’s eyes go wide as he notices, more aware after yesterday’s fiasco, and Yuuri feels the most gentle, tentative brush against his mind.

And it’s so gentle, so soft and tender and almost nervous and yet so _strong_ compared to his other bonds that tears begin to fill Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri has this, a bond so deep he can feel it without trying. He gets to _have_ this. And _keep_ this. As long as both of them want it.

He reaches back, a tendril of magic against the cool comfort of Victor’s own spirit and— _oh_. The feel of it washes through him, soothing an ache he hadn’t even realized had been stretched throughout his body. It almost stings a bit; it had hurt so _much_. It’s almost like the familiar feeling of ice on an inflamed ankle, or the soreness when you wake up after a good day of practice. The ache of something healing.

Yuuri’s familiar ears are still out, and he probably has patches of fur across his body that he can’t will away just yet, but the constant, uncomfortable moving and shifting of his magic stills, calms, becomes almost _normal_.

Yuuri gasps a breath, closing his eyes and gripping the sides of Victor’s head a little firmer, holding it in place. Physical proximity has little to do with how you connect with a bond, though it’ll go a bit quieter and more indistinct over vast distances. But it still grounds him to feel Victor under his fingertips, to have his chest moving against Yuuri’s, to know he’s not alone, not just daydreaming and imagining this.

Because Yuuri was sure he wouldn’t have control of his magic for the entire rest of his life. He’s been trying to shape his existence around this fact, trying to move forward with a critical part of him broken, so close he can taste it yet out of reach, walking forward even as his body shifted and changed with every step and made him fall more often than not.

And he’ll need to practice and work to get everything back under control again; it’s inevitable with a change like this.

But he can do this.

 _They_ can do this.

Yuuri opens his eyes to find Victor staring at him still, eyes wet but the grin splitting his face so bright and brilliant that even Yuuri can’t doubt that there’s only happiness there.

Victor’s thoughts and feelings press a little more into Yuuri’s mind, tentative and gentle compared to the burst of light and thought of yesterday, warm even as Victor’s magic is cold. There’s the sense of a question in the contact, wordless but still there, as if he’s asking _is this okay_?

A giggle escapes Yuuri’s mouth as he reaches back, entwining his own magic with Victor’s. _Is this okay_ , Victor asks, like they haven’t been talking about all this for over a day, as if Yuuri could ever say no to Victor like this.

The laughter grows in him, getting louder until the tears finally escape his eyes and he’s laughing and he’s sobbing and he’s so, so _light_ , his magic so calm and _his_. His future doesn’t have to be a burden anymore. There’s so much in front of him to take a hold of, to take advantage. There’s just— It’s so _much_.

“Yuuri.” There’s a chuckle to Victor’s voice as he nuzzles his forehead gently against Yuuri’s, though Yuuri can barely make out Victor past his blurred eyes. “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t— I don’t know?” Yuuri manages to get out between garbled sobs and laughter. “I’m just— I’m just _happy_.”

Yuuri manages to stifle himself for just a moment to meet Victor’s eyes, biting his own lips as Victor’s mouth begins to twitch.

And then Victor lets out a short, quick giggle and Yuuri can’t restrain himself anymore, both of them laughing and crying as Victor pulls bit by bit more into Yuuri’s magic and Yuuri into his, twining and wrapping around each other so much and so deeply. Yuuri’s never felt anything like this. He’s never been so close or so intimate with anyone, not like how he is with Victor, not like this bond.

This can’t be real. This can’t be Yuuri’s life.

But it _is_. This is Yuuri’s, all his, _only_ his. Victor himself said he’s never had a bond like this before. Yuuri’s never even known a bond that was this deep, this _much_. After twenty-three years of light, average bonds, he had safely assumed he’d never feel what it was like to be so close to someone else.

But Yuuri’s been so, so wrong about so much, and he’s never been more thankful for that.

Eventually, they both run out of breath, their minds and magic as content and warm and golden as the light that seeps through the windows. Victor stares at Yuuri for a long time before he ducks his head, pressing his smile to Yuuri’s neck as his hands move up, splayed across Yuuri’s shoulder blades as he holds on tight.

Yuuri moves his own hands to the back of Victor’s head, tangling his fingers in Victor’s short hair and bringing his head down to rest against Victor’s. He grips as tight as he dares, almost afraid to let go as every facet of them weaves together; mind, body, and soul.

And in a way, Yuuri will never let go.

He’s found this… this _whatever_ that he has with Victor, stumbled into it through a series of ridiculous coincidences, but now that it’s in his hands, he doesn’t want to go without it. He _won’t_ go without it.

So long as Victor stands by Yuuri’s side, he’ll never let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing this entire chapter: God I hope they don’t have awful morning breath.
> 
> These are the kinds of things I think about while writing, save me from myself.
> 
> Also! Because apparently I needed another thing on my plate, the water line busted yesterday and it's flooding my street and the street next door OTL So I need to throw this chapter up and go deal with that! I hope that your week's going better than my week, and as always, thank you for reading!!! <3 <3 <3


	28. Thirty-Eighth

Yuuri and Victor try to put themselves back together before they go downstairs, but from the way Yurio gags when he sees them, they probably did a poor job of it.

“God, you don’t have to be so _obvious_ about it.” Yurio glares at them as he follows them into the kitchen where they start making a late breakfast—it’s still morning, but much later than Yuuri had thought.

“Obvious about what?” Yuuri asks, glancing back toward Yurio. “Our bond?”

Yurio gives him the blankest, most unamused look Yuuri’s ever seen, and that includes from Phichit. “No, about the fact that you two obviously spent the morning, in your bed, f—”

“I think that enough!” Victor slams a pan down onto a burner, making Yuuri wince. “ _More_ than enough. You’re staying here because the Katsukis are gracious enough to be your host even _after_ you’ve been so rude to them. You have no excuse to be staying here, and you never did. Don’t push your luck.”

“What are you gonna do?” Yurio sneers. “Kick me out?”

“No.” Victor takes a step closer to Yurio. “But I can call Yakov.”

“You think he’ll do anything about it?” Yurio snorts and crosses his arms. “He’s already called me. Multiple times. He’s not leaving Saint Petersburg to hunt me down while he has so many students, are you kidding me?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Yuuri turns away from the two of them to rummage through the large, commercial-sized fridge. “You have to leave if you want to compete for the season. Victor’s mine.”

Yuuri’s words, as always, catch up with him a moment too late. He pokes his head back out to try and figure out a way to backtrack.

But Victor’s looking at him with a dusting of pink across the bridge of his nose, and he’s clutching his shirt above his heart. Yuuri almost opens his mouth to ask if Victor’s okay, but then he doesn’t have to.

Victor brushes gently against Yuuri’s mind, and it’s a warmth in Yuuri’s chest, a trill across his skin, something touched and happy and… pleased?

And now it’s Yuuri’s turn to flush as he gently presses back against Victor, a little pleased himself.

“You really think you’re good enough for him, Katsudon? For the champion of mageia?” Yurio’s snarling snaps Yuuri right out of his head.

And Yuuri frowns, standing up to his full height and looks down at Yurio. He wasn’t _done_ with Victor. He’s still trying to figure out how this all works, how this all feels, and there’s not a point in this child sticking around to keep poking at Yuuri’s wounds while he’s trying to heal.

So Yuuri stands up a little straighter and stares Yurio down, his lips pulling back slightly. “I might not be a great mage, but I am the one that Victor chose for his next season. Not you.”

The room goes completely silent for a moment, and it takes everything in Yuuri not to look away, not to question everything. Because, yes, they have a bond, but they haven’t talked about the future yet. Though, well, Victor did come all the way to Hasetsu to ask Yuuri to be his partner and then didn’t leave. And technically he’s an official resident of Japan, so competing with anyone from Russia would get complicated…

There’s a low whistle, making everyone jump and turn toward the doorway where Mari stands, arms crossed. She quirks an eyebrow when Yuuri meets her eye. “Been a while since I’ve seen you mark your territory like that, bro. Nice to see your teeth again. Both literally and not.”

Yuuri starts, reaching up to touch his canines and sure enough, they’re a little too large and a little too long. Maybe a little but much for dealing with a teenager. But, well, Yurio doesn’t look scared. In fact, he’s looking at Yuuri’s teeth with round, almost… impressed, eyes? His mouth is in a tiny little “o” and he blinks a few times before his trademark smile scowl into place.

Yuuri’s ears perk forward. _Interesting_.

“Oh, does he get like this often?” Victor’s eyes are pinned to Mari, a gleam in them that Yuuri’s not entirely sure that he likes.

Mari rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, it’s a part of Yuuri like the rest of him. Figure it out yourself. Anyway, your guys’ conversation reminded me, I wanted to ask how long Yurio here is staying since Yuuri’s back and things seem more settled. Need to know how many plates we’ll be needing at the table for how long, you know.”

“I’m not going home empty-handed. You made a promise and I _intend_ to collect. Even if you’re sticking with this second-rate, you’re going to pay up somehow.” Yurio jerks his chin up, trying to be assertive but it’s a bit comical on the shortest and youngest person in the room.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Victor grins, and Yuuri _definitely_ doesn’t like the wicked curve it takes on when he meets Yuuri’s eyes. “What Mari just said reminded me that I not only have one but, in fact, _three_ solo routines that I’ve choreographed and planned. Enough for each of us to have one!”

Yuuri blinks. _Three_? How? Where did he find the time? The inspiration?

Yurio scoffs. “You think I want your rejects? Your second-hand, second-rate, hand-me-down programs? I’m not falling for that, dumbass.”

“Oh no, you don’t understand.” Victor turns to look at Yurio next, and Yuuri likes the glee in the circles around his eyes even less. “These solo programs are three different routines, yes. But they’re focused on the same theme. If you really want to prove yourself better than both me and Yuuri, I’m giving you the opportunity to prove it.”

Yuuri shrinks back closer to the fridge. _What_?

Yurio leans toward Victor. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“We’ll all have separate routines with separate takes on love. The music is all arrangement of the same piece, but different enough that it won’t be a problem. They were all made with my typical difficulty in mind, but I hadn’t practiced the magic aspect that much, so it should be easy to adapt to the physical discipline. If you truly want to compare yourself to us, show us who’s better, then what better method than to take a program with the same base as ours, and then crush us with it?”

And he says that like _it’s a good thing_. Yuuri doesn’t know too much about Yuri Plisetsky except that he _destroyed_ Juniors, that he’s leagues above his peers and that people are already whispering about him sweeping through and owning Seniors until puberty inevitably hits.

Victor is from the same arena, he _knows_ this, and yet he’s saying all this like it’s _nothing_? Like this kid couldn’t possibly wipe the floor with Yuuri?

What is he _thinking_?

Yurio smirks, an evil sort of glee lurking in his eyes. “You know, that doesn’t sound half-bad. Sure. Give it to me and let me absolutely _destroy_ you guys with it.”

“So I take it you’re not leaving yet, then?” Mari quirks an eyebrow.

“Ah, I’ll cover his expenses.” Victor gives her a quick grin.

“I don’t need your _pity_ ,” Yurio snarls.

“It’s not pity. I still owe you for not being your partner, no? But if you think a lone program’s choreography makes up for an entire season’s worth of commitment, well…” Victor waves his hand, blasé.

“Fine. Whatever.” Yurio huffs. “Pay for it, but don’t think we’ll be even for a while.”

Victor touches his chest, face comically affronted. “I would never.” Yurio looks about ready to explode so he continues, “Now, go and get your things together. If we’re headed to the arena today, you’ll need to be prepared.”

“Today?” Yuuri’s voice is just a pith too high, and he’d be embarrassed if he had any humility left to defend. “But I just…”

“What, you’re too weak to handle a little practice session, Katsudon?” Yurio turns his attention back to Yuuri.

Yuuri’s hackles raise as that glare gets turned on him, something in him stirring, and he only barely resists the urge to bare his teeth again. “No. I’ll be fine. It’s just last minute, is all.”

“Well, if you guys are done, finally,” Mari quirks an eyebrow at the group of them, “some of us have work to do.”

“Ah, of course!” Victor grins, but it’s not the natural, easy grin that Yuuri’s grown used to, before he turns back to getting some sort of breakfast ready. “We’ll be out of your way in just a moment.”

Yurio hesitates a moment, almost like he’s deciding whether or not to pick another fight, before he turns and slinks off, grumbling about something or other as he goes.

Mari stays just a moment longer than he does, exchanging a look with Yuuri and then giving a shrug and a smile before heading back into the onsen proper.

Yuuri stares after her for a moment, thoughts a muddled mess, before he hears Victor moving around him and he jumps back into action.

Victor’s quiet while they work, and Yuuri can’t help but be a little thankful for the time to _think_. Because Yuuri’s barely coming to terms with the fact that he can compete again, that he could compete with _Victor_ , even if it would be difficult while they’re both healing and nurturing the bond between them. It would be an adjustment just to work with a bond so deep, never mind the trauma that will take months, at _least_ , to heal.

All because Yuuri got completely wasted at the banquet, as if it were some sort of frat party.

No _wonder_ his sponsors were so disappointed in him. He’d assumed it was because he was so broken, that they’d invested so much in him only for him to let them down. And, well, that part was right, But it wasn’t because of his ailment, but because he made an ass of himself in front of a ton of mages and sponsors and officials. At least word hasn’t spread beyond that, to gossip blogs and worse.

At least it makes sense why Yurio is so upset with him, too. That behavior was terrible, and ridiculous, and…

But why does the kid still have so many pictures of it on his phone, then?

Regardless, Yuuri has his first true rival that he’s had in his whole career. And it’s a kid who’s around eight years younger than him and already out-performing him. Great.

They bring their food into the family ding area, and Yuuri sits down with a sigh. It’s not like he thought everything would magically get better from here on out, from having a bond with Victor. But it would have been nice if he’d had a _little_ time to bask in it before reality came to knock him over.

Victor, instead of turning his attention to his food, turns his attention toward Yuuri, draping himself over him.

Yuuri lets out a small squeak, thoughts shocked out of his head, before he lets out a breath and leans against Victor, almost wishing he could purr at the comforting brush of Victor’s mind against his own.

Victor’s hands wander up until one brushes through Yuuri’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

Yuuri starts. “Uh. What? Why are you sorry?”

“Your thoughts were very loud after I announced that I would give Yurio a program.” Victor lightly taps a finger against Yuuri’s skull, making him flush. “Do you not want me to give it to him? He’ll be angry, but if it bothers you so much, I won’t do it.”

“Oh, no. That’s not… No, that’s fine,” Yuuri shakes his head, trying to focus. It’s already a challenge after having gotten up from bed so recently, and it’s even harder when all he wants to do is melt against Victor and ignore the conversation and his worries.

“Then do you not want me to choreograph your solo program? You can say no, Yuuri.” Victor’s hands begin to stroke through Yuuri’s hair, a bit like how Yuuri had done to Victor this morning.

Yuuri’s eyes flutter shut. “Having you choreograph for me has been a dream since I knew you choreographed your own programs. Besides, it saves us time, and we’ll need all the time we can to get our bond and our magic stable enough to compete.” Yuuri’s eyes snap open. “I mean, assuming you want to compete. I just said that to Yurio, without asking you, and—”

“Yuuri, I haven’t stopped wanting to compete with you since the moment you swept me off my feet at the banquet.” Victor pulls away just enough to meet Victor’s eyes. “What are you upset about?”

“I’m not upset,” Yuuri’s quick to correct, but that’s not totally true, is it? “Well, I am. But I’m not angry. I’m just… You say you want me to compete against you and Yurio, but I’m nowhere in the same league as you guys. Plisetsky’s scores are already higher than my average. You have all this hope placed in me, and I want to live up to it, but I’m so _weak_. I’ve always been weak. And I… I’m going to let you down, Victor.”

Victor frowns. “Is that really what you think about yourself?”

Yuuri frowns right back. “It’s what I _know_ about myself.”

Victor shakes his head. “No, that isn’t true. You say that Yurio’s scores are higher than your own, but weren’t your own scores from Juniors similar to his? He’s a force to be reckoned with, absolutely. But he’s immature. He has the power, but he doesn’t understand the art. You have _both_. You can now fully transform, more than most mages in the mageia circuit. Your artistry is unmatched in any other mage I’ve ever seen. You’re inconsistent at best, but when you’re performing at your best, your precision and grace is unrivaled. Yes, even by me.”

Yuuri gasps, offended more than if Victor had decided to insult Yuuri. “Now that’s not—”

“That _is_ true.” And there’s steel behind the blue of Victor’s eyes, behind the firm set of his mouth. “I can’t say that I wouldn’t want to meet you again even if you _were_ the worst mage I’ve ever met, because above that you’re Yuuri. But I take my career seriously. I was considering retiring. I almost announced it at Worlds. It would only take the most exceptional and extraordinary person I’ve ever met to pull me back in.”

“Oh,” Yuuri breathes, because what else can he say to that? How can he let those words sink in and still have them ring true? It’s like Victor has to be talking about someone else, but he’s looking straight at Yuuri. He’s seen Yuuri fumble over himself and make awful mistakes in his time in Hasetsu, he _knows_ Yuuri is a mess.

And yet he can still say all of these things about him? _How_? How can Victor be so close and intimate with Yuuri’s flaws and still have faith in him?

“But…” Yuuri clears his throat, trying to push down and ignore the emotions blooming and growing inside of him. “But you said I’m inconsistent, and I am inconsistent at best. Why do you want a partner that will only drag you down when you least expect it?”

Victor quirks an eyebrow. “You almost sound like you don’t want me as your partner.”

Yuuri sucks in a sharp breath. _No_. He’s come so close to living his dream, and he doesn’t want to let it go. If he’s sure of anything, it’s of wanting Victor, wanting this bond, wanting to be able to prove himself—

Victor’s magic brushes gently against Yuuri’s mind, soothing and cool and gentle, if a bit aching in its concern.

“Your thoughts are so loud sometimes.” There’s a furrow in Victor’s brow.

Yuuri lets himself breathe, trying to focus. “It’s not— I just… I get overwhelmed sometimes. Afraid. And everything’s been so crazy, I’ve been so anxious lately, and…”

“Okay.” Victor takes it all in stride, and Yuuri can’t help but wonder how Victor isn’t walking away from him already. “Then tell me what’s wrong? Because how you felt there, back in the kitchen…”

Yuuri frowns down at his food, taking a bite so he has a second to think. He was definitely struck by what was going on, but… “Was it really that bad?”

Victor hesitates, and then gives an odd sort of shrug, hindered by the fact that he’s still draped over Yuuri. “I’ve never felt anyone else’s emotions that strongly before, but it was obvious you weren’t happy.”

Yuuri’s mouth dips even lower, into a scowl. “I’ll have to keep better track of my emotions.”

“ _Yuuri_.” Victor sighs. “That’s not the _point_. What bothered you back in the kitchen?”

Yuuri glances away from Victor. “I already told you. Yurio’s going to have a program that you created, that will get compared to mine, and I’ll always fall short.”

“I don’t think you will.”

Yuuri turns back, raising a questioning eyebrow to Victor’s easy smile. “What will you do when I lose then?”

“You won’t ever lose in my eyes! Seeing you compete and knowing you’re using my program is a gift in and of itself. Besides,” Victor winks before his voice lowers, “wait until you see what I have in store for you to compete with.”

Yuuri just stares at him for a long moment as his cheeks warm. He really has to be dreaming. This can’t be a reality. Except his thighs are still a little sore from yesterday’s running, and the sensation of his own magic, and magic other than his own so close he could touch it is too visceral for Yuuri to have come up with on his own.

It’s so much more than what Yuuri deserves.

But it’s here, in his hands and his to take.

It’s too much, but Yuuri can’t say no to it, he’ll never say no to it again, not after having turned Victor down again and again for all the wrong reasons.

But he can think more about this later, when it’s quiet and he doesn’t have learning a whole new program that Victor’s apparently _very_ excited about looming over his head.

So Yuuri just grumbles and shoves a bite of food into his mouth. “Whatever, just eat.”

Victor grins, triumphant, but only pulls away a little to pick at his own food. And if Yuuri’s grateful that Victor keeps an arm wrapped around Yuuri, he doesn’t say it out loud. He doesn’t need to. Victor probably knows, anyway. Because Yuuri can feel the same warm, happy glow echoing through Victor’s own magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls online* I did it! I got the chapter up!!! Now I'm off to pass out because existing is particularly difficult this week. I hope that you're all doing well, and as always, thank you guys so much for reading!!! <3
> 
> (Also, you ever want to smack Yuuri in the face for being so hypocritical because mood)


	29. Twenty-Ninth

Yuuri and Victor get just long enough peace and quiet before Yurio bursts into the room with Makkachin at his heels—she had probably been begging scraps from customers, yet again—and proceeds to nag and needle them until they get up and get ready themselves.

Yuuri heads down toward his room—

“Oh.”

Yuuri turns around to see Victor standing at the door to the old banquet room—well, Victor’s room at this point—and shifting from foot to foot. Almost like he’s… unsure? Nervous? Something that’s not very usual to see on Victor Nikiforov.

“What?” The word comes out of Yuuri’s mouth as he reaches out toward Victor in his mind, a question mark in his thoughts. But Victor’s own head is a little stormy, grey and heavy, but something is crackling within the clouds.

“Um…” Victor reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, smile a little strained. “Your things aren’t really in your room anymore?”

Yuuri blinks at Victor. _What_? Why wouldn’t they be? They’re his things and his room—no one even touched his stuff for the _five years_ that he was gone. But now he leaves for two days, and that’s when they decide to move his things?

They wouldn’t.

Would they?

Yuuri turns around and opens the door to his room and it looks mostly the same.

Except that his Victor posters are nowhere to be seen.

So is everything he thought he’d left laying out.

Instead, there’s some leopard-print luggage sitting on the floor, spilling out some of its guts in a messy disarray. But if Yuuri couldn’t make a guess of who this belongs to based on the fact that there’s only one other person staying in Yu-topia besides Victor, the size and pure volume of the dark clothes he sees laying around makes it absolutely clear.

“Yurio’s staying in _my_ room?” The words leave Yuuri’s mouth dead and a little numb.

His first fear when he’d left Hasetsu to help Minako with Minami was that he’d be replaced, as ridiculous as the thought was. But… maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous after all?

“Well, there wasn’t anywhere else to stay?” Victor sounds almost uncertain, as if it were a question instead of a statement of a fact. “And, well… Hiroko knows that you haven’t exactly been sleeping in your room, and so she asked if she minded if your things were moved into my room, and… Well, I said yes.”

There’s a flutter of emotion across their bond, strong enough to be felt without Yuuri reaching for it, but he’s not sure what it is exactly. It’s… trilling? Soft? It’s good, but it makes Yuuri’s heart flutter for the moment he can feel it before it’s gone.

But Victor mistakes his quiet and confusion for something else. “I’m, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I should have called or texted. I… I’ll help you move all your things back in, and we’ll set up something in my room for Yurio. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, of course. This is your house, I’m a guest, I shouldn’t have made decisions like this—”

Yuuri steps back over to Victor, taking his hand without thinking about it. It was a shock, yes, but… if anything, this makes him closer to Victor. And he really _hasn’t_ been using his room. Old fears die hard, but seeing Victor start to get nervous at all this somehow makes it easier to step past them for right now, at least.

“You don’t mind?” Yuuri glances up at Victor. “I mean, like you said, you’re a guest here. I don’t want to infringe.”

Victor’s so quick to shake his head it’s a wonder if he isn’t a little dizzy from it. “No! I want you here. With me. If that’s what you want.”

Yuuri frowns. “Of course that’s what I want. Didn’t we just talk about this?”

Victor stares for a moment before a grin breaks across his face, and he lets out a huff of a laugh as an echo of the earlier feeling spreads across their bond. “Well, this is a little different.”

“I mean, not really?” Yuuri walks past Victor, dragging him with their still-clasped hands. “We were already sleeping in the same bed, my stuff might as well be here anyway. Though we’ll be together a lot if we start training together, you’ll have to tell me if I start annoying you.”

Yuuri opens the closet and belatedly realizes that he noticed more of his things in here earlier and it felt so normal that he barely questioned it. His cheeks warm a little, but he also remembers how much he liked it then and, well, that hasn’t changed.

“Yuuri, we’ve already been training with Minako and spent most of the rest of our days together.” Victor’s voice rises, as if he’s offended that Yuuri would ever imply anything like that.

“It’ll be different, though, won’t it? Especially considering we still need a duet, and a coach and…” And Yuuri can feel a trickle of panic running down his spine at how much they need to do in a tiny amount of time, so he switches direction before it can grow into anything more menacing. “Let’s just get ready, okay? Yurio will hunt us down if we don’t get moving.”

Victor snorts softly. “Heaven forbid.”

They move quietly after that, other than asking where some of his things are, which takes a bit of searching for both of them sometimes—Mari had helped a lot with the move. Yuuri _almost_ dares to ask where his posters went, but he guesses he doesn’t need them as much with the real thing here…

Well, he can always look more later.

By the time they head downstairs, Yuuri doesn’t need a bond with Yurio to feel the agitation rolling off of his small form, even if Makkachin’s oblivious as she pants happily at his feet.

“I thought you got all of that gross bullshit out of your system this morning,” Yurio growls as they walk past him toward the door.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yuuri shrugs a little as he puts on his shoes. “Are you coming with us, or are you staying here?”

Yurio huffs and mutters in Russian before stomping over to join them, but Yuuri cares more about the small grin spread across Victor’s face than those antics.

They all head out the door, Makkachin trotting along with them. It’s strange to be heading out and _not_ going to Minako’s studio—he should really text her and apologize, but that’s kind of hard to do when she still has his phone—even though they have their athletic gear. It’s strange that Yuuri has his practice padding in his bag, instead of just a change of clothes. He considered throwing it out after he retired, but eventually decided that he was going to donate them to the Ice Castle. And he kept seeing it and meaning to bring it over, he just… didn’t. Instead, it haunted his room a little like Yuuri haunted to onsen; an ever-present, gloomy reminder of how things once were.

Until now.

Yuuko’s at the arena today, and there’s another session of screaming and pictures and freaking out over Yurio, even if his general grump means it dies back a lot sooner than it did with Victor. And when she asks if she can watch Victor’s routines, of course he says yes, and then he heads off with Yuuko to sign the arena’s contract while Yuuri and Yurio head out to the arena.

Yuuri’s not exactly sure what to do with Yurio. He’s just a kid, but talking with him is like petting a feral animal with sharp teeth. Yuuri doesn’t really have any desire to get to know him or even talk to him, not after the bathroom incident in Sochi, and then how he treated Yuuri when he arrived at Hasetsu.

Yuuri can see he’s just a kid who wanted to have someone he looked up to, his mentor maybe, fulfill a promise. But this kid’s actions still pushed Yuuri over an edge he was barely clinging onto a few times, and he’s not sure he wants to be around someone who would do that so thoughtlessly, kid or not.

Unfortunately, Yurio takes the option of waiting quietly from Yuuri’s clutching fingers.

“So, this is where you practiced while you were in Juniors?”

Yuuri frowns down at Yurio, but he doesn’t shift his attention from the arena. “Um, yeah.”

“Cool.” Yurio leans up against the boards, staring out at the arena as if there’s anything to look at besides the packed ground.

 _What_? Why isn’t he taking advantage of the opportunity to berate Yuuri, to tell him everything he hates about him, and this town, and this arena? Is it because Victor’s not around? Then what does _that_ mean?

“Are you ready?” Victor calls as he bursts through the door with a huge smile across his face, Yuuko following behind him.

“Finally,” Yurio snaps, spinning back around to glare at Victor. “Are you going to show us these programs or what?”

Huh. It _is_ Victor, isn’t it? But then… what was that back in the bathroom at Sochi?

Maybe Yuuri should stop trying to think through the actions of a fifteen-year-old kid.

“Okay!” Victor steps into the arena before turning back to them and clapping his hands. “We’ll start with basic run-throughs of both programs, so you can see the theme and understand both”

Yurio’s eyes narrow. “What about yours?”

Victor throws him a wink. “That’s a secret.”

“That’s not fair!” Yurio slams his hands against the boards,

“Life isn’t fair, little Yurio.” Victor smiles at Yurio, and it’s such a contrast to his words that it throws Yuuri a little. “Do you want to head back to the inn and not get a program at all?”

“Fine.” Yurio leans back, crossing his arms. “Be an ass. Whatever.”

Victor just keeps smiling. “All of these programs have the same theme, and I’ve called them On Love. The two I’ll be giving you are Eros and Agape. The magic elements will be loose and we’ll refine them as we go along; I can’t even summon my familiar form features yet, but I can mark out what I have in mind with some light.” He shifts his gaze, looking past them. “Are you ready?”

“Ready!” Yuuko shouts back from behind them, holding up a phone to show him.

Victor walks out to the center of the rink and yells to them, the noise echoing around the arena. “This first piece is On Love: Agape.”

The lights dim just enough that Yuuri notices before Victor crosses his legs and holds his arms slightly out behind him. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then the music begins.

An eternal voice rings out in the vast emptiness of the arena, angelic and gentle. Victor begins to move in sweeping, graceful movements, small sparks springing from his fingertips in vague arcs. It strikes Yuuri as odd to see something so small and almost _weak_ from Victor, but he had only gotten his magic back just this morning, so this much in itself is impressive.

Yuuri almost starts down his usual guilt-trip about this whole situation, but then Victor starts to begin in earnest, and all of his thoughts screech to a halt.

He’s seen Victor perform in person before, he’s tried to set aside time for it at every single competition that they’ve shared. But there’s something about this that’s even more stunning right here, right now. Maybe it might be what Victor crafted for himself to set new records, but instead this might be for _Yuuri_ to set new records with. Victor believes Yuuri could do it justice, Victor wants to _stay_ with Yuuri, and that means that he thinks Yuuri’s in the same class, or close to it.

And Yuuri can see the potential in this program. The pattern that his waves of light could create in the earth, the flares of magic that could be waves of water drawn up from beneath the water. It’s precise, and the dance is difficult on top of that. But it’s stunning, it’s weightless and ethereal and full of a sort of love that’s distant but permeates everything.

Then Victor clasps his hands above his face as he looks up, a desperate, heartfelt prayer— And it’s over.

Victor stands up straight, a small grin on his face. “Kind of like that! What do you think?”

Clapping sounds from behind them. “Wow… That was amazing!”

“Who’s _that_?” Yurio snarls, turning his glare onto poor Yuuko.

“She’s one of the staff here, Yuuko.” Yuuri’s tail flicks, ears alert. Yurio’s already taken out his teenage angst on Yuuri, and he won’t let him do the same thing to Yuuko

“Sorry for interrupting your practice. It was so wonderful, I couldn’t help myself.” Yuuko smiles at Yurio, and Yurio… doesn’t do anything?

He just blinks stares at Yuuko for a second, his expression losing its edge.

“It’s no problem, Yuuko! I’m happy you enjoyed it.” Victor smiles at her as he walks a bit closer. “Now, what did _you two_ think?”

“Um…” Yuuri tries to organize his thoughts, trying to choose his words carefully. “It’s a very clear and innocent kind of love. Almost like someone who doesn’t know what love is yet.”

Yurio sneers. “I don’t like this piece. This innocence crap makes me wanna barf.” He sticks his tongue out, gagging a little.

“Okay.” Victor’s smile curves farther up as he backs into the arena again. “This piece is On Love: Eros. The theme is sexual love.”

It’s… _what_? Is Victor going to have a fifteen-year-old perform to _that_ theme? Because he has to know at this point that Yuuri’s the least sexy thing on legs. Maybe it’s more implicit than explicit?

Victor stands in the center of the arena, hip cocked and head slightly bowed. A guitar thrums through the air, sudden and vibrant and Victor’s arms rise, running along his body, caressing himself, before stomping his foot, tossing his hair, and throwing them a shoulder and a smirk.

Yuuko makes some sort of noise behind them and Yurio turns, saying something, but Yuuri can’t look away.

While the last program was water and purity, this one is fire and heat—and not just from the elements. From the way that Victor’s hips move, from the way that his fingers roam and tease, Yuuri _feels_ it.

Victor’s hardly innocent, he’s performed sensual sort of programs before—though perhaps not on par with the likes of Christophe’s blatantly sexual routines. Victor even has at least one costume with BDSM themes, though Yuuri hadn’t known that the first time he’d seen the routine. But this… this makes something in Yuuri _stir_. Something that’s been quietly growing during the endless hours that he spends with Victor, that nips at the edges of his thoughts and makes a heat pool low in his belly.

This isn’t implicit at all. This is coy and taunting and _eros_ to its very core, and it _rattles_ Yuuri. The flames that reach toward Yuuri, beg to lick at his hands, makes him want to reach back, to fall into them and be burned.

Victor’s routines always make him feel, always bring something new onto the table.

But _this_ … Yuuri’s not sure what this is.

Victor’s arms sweep with a dramatic flair, then wrap around himself, chest heaving as his eyelids lower and he glances through his eyelashes as the music rises to its climax and thrums to a halt.

And then Victor drops his pose, prancing back to them with a smile on his face. “ How was that?”

“Oh, um…” Yuuri blinks, trying to control his breathing and the heat spread across his cheeks. “It was very eros! It’s like a completely different song.”

“Right?” And Victor… Victor lowers his eyelids and smirks at Yuuri? He must still be in character.

“Victor!” Yuri leans forward, almost lifting himself over the boards “I want to perform to this one!”

“Oh? Good thing I’ve already decided who’s doing what, so there’s need to fight over it!” Victor’s smirk drops back into his cheery grin as he looks back at Yurio. “We’ll all perform to these opposing yet complimenting themes. I know I’ll be performing to On Love: Storge. For these two…” Victor’s eyes gleam. “Yuuri, you’ll perform to Eros! And Yurio, you’ll perform to Agape!”

“What?” Yuuri squeaks. He knows Yurio can’t perform Eros, he’s too young—but _Yuuri_ being _sexy_? Not even Celestino even suggested anything close.

“Switch them!” Yurio snarls, eyes wide and feral as claws poke out of the tips of his fingers—maybe his control isn’t as great as he tries to pretend it is. “That piece isn’t me at all! I fucking _hate_ water, and I know you know that and did it on purpose!”

Victor scoffs, even as the amusement on his face only grows “You have to do the opposite of what people expect. How else will you surprise them? Both of your careers so far have been predictable, bland. If you continue this way, you’ll be forgotten the moment you retire. Honestly, I’m surprised you think you can choose your own image. From the audience’s perspective, you’ve never proven you’re anything special. And if you can’t take a simple challenge to acquire a world-record-worthy program at no cost to you, then you’re welcome to walk out of here and go home.”

A noise comes out of Yuuri’s mouth, but it almost doesn’t even feel connected to him. He could go anywhere else and find anyone else to work with him on choreographing a program to perform solo. But that wouldn’t be a program that _Victor_ created, that Victor would specifically cater to what he believes Yuuri is capable of.

Yurio lets out a growl, just a touch too animal to be entirely human. “Fine. I’ll perform Agape. My Senior division debut depends on having it. It had better get me to win the Grand Prix Final, at _least_!”

“It’s up to you whether you win or not.” Victor shrugs. “If I performed the program, I’d win the Final solo performances scores of both classes of magic, for sure.”

“You wanna bet on that?” A predatory smile spreads across Yurio’s face, a gleam in his eye.

“Oh, I do like bets.” Victor tilts his head, glee simmering down into something that almost matches Yurio. “What would you like if you win?”

“I want to be your partner next season! I won’t let you escape _that_ easily, Victor.” Yurio stomps on the ground, like a punctuation to his point.

“Sure,” Victor chirps, and Yuuri’s stomach flips. “I’m not sure what I want yet, and as the provider of your programs and organizer of this little game, I get to take my time deciding. But Yuuri…” His eyes flick to and focus on Yuuri, humor leaving him altogether. “Yuuri, what about you? What would you like if you win?”

Yuuri swallows. He knew that Victor only stayed with his partners for one season, but he’d hoped… Well, that was silly. He _knew_ better. Yuuri won’t hold Victor back from growing as an artist, he respects him too much for that. All he wants is to do well. Amazingly well. So well that _no one_ will forget his season with Victor. He wants to sweep the world off of its feet—and if that means learning how to be, well, sexy, then he’ll do that.

And he can’t ask to win competitions. That’s all on Yuuri.

But he knows the next best thing. Yuuri has a ritual for every time that he wins a competition.

And he wants to share that—he wants to share _everything_ —with Victor.

“I want to eat katsudon with you, Victor.” Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and when he opens them, Victor’s mouth is popped open, face blank in surprise. So Yuuri pushes forward, just _getting it out_ as that flame that bloomed in him while watching Victor perform the rough motions of Eros sparked. “I want to keep on winning, and keep on eating katsudon with you! So I’ll perform Eros! I’ll give it all the eros I’ve got!”

“Perfect!” Victor’s face softens, and the smile that stretches his lips is earnest, the gleam to his eye almost childlike. “That’s exactly what I’d like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEMISEXUAL YUURI RIGHTS!!! (And no, it isn’t just the bond making him feel this way, we’ll get into that later.)
> 
> Slapping this up real quick before I go eat and pass out because HOO BOY it's been a week and it's only Wednesday. I hope you're all doing okay out there! And thank you so much for reading!!!


	30. Thirtieth

Yuuri feels like things should be easy after they have everything settled, that things will just slide into place.

He should really know better.

“So about program composition…” Victor leans against the boards, only inches from Yuuri. How strange to think that weeks ago, being this close to Victor Nikiforov would have sent him spiraling, but now he just barely resists the urge to lean closer so Yuuko and Yurio won’t tease him. “I’ve seen all of your programs, but I never seen your elemental specialty listed. What is it?”

“Um…” Yuuri looks down wringing his hands a bit. “I’m not sure? I’m pretty okay at precise water forms, and most of the necessary earth forms. Fire, I’m… Well, it’s a little more erratic.” And, oh no, that’s what eros is, isn’t it? Heat and fire and intimacy? _Dammit_. “Wind isn’t a required element, but I’m pretty okay at weaving it in as well! So, uh…”

“Okay!” Victor chirps. “Well, we both need to practice the basics a bit to get back into shape anyway, don’t you think? I’ll teach Yurio first, since it wouldn’t make sense to train you in anything you can’t do right now. I’m sure you’d do an okay job, but I know you’re nervous. Which seems to be your problem, doesn’t it?” Victor pauses at that, his eyes narrowing a bit as he takes in Yuuri. “You have the skill to win. Why can’t you make it happen?”

“Well, that’s probably because…” Yuuri just can’t stop fidgeting, and he glances down at the floor. Victor could probably put this together from all the conversations they’ve had, but he should know it and hear it if he’s going to be partnering up with Yuuri. “I lack confidence.”

“Right. And my job as your partner is to make you feel confident in yourself, in _us_.” There’s a brush of something against Yuuri’s lip, so he looks up and—

Victor’s leaned over the boards, his face almost touching Yuuri’s, his thumb pressed against his lower lip as he stares unflinchingly into Yuuri’s eyes. His breath is warm across Yuuri’s lip as he murmurs, “No one in the whole wide world knows your true eros, Yuuri. It may be an alluring side of you that you yourself are unaware of. Can you show me what it is soon?”

And maybe if they were back in Victor’s room— _their_ room, now—this might feel different. This might _be_ different. That’s a comfortable, familiar space where Yuuri’s used to Victor’s touch. He might even go so far as to say he expects it. He expects to wake up in a tangle of limbs, faces pressed to skin, hands touching and caressing with a sort of comfort that Yuuri loves to bloom awake in every morning.

But Yuuri still feels this… this _whatever_ it is that’s grown in him when he watched Victor dance Eros. It makes a shiver run underneath his skin that’s not unlike magic, but it’s much more physical. More primal. Its heat spreads into his mind, clouding his thoughts. He thinks about leaning in closer, filling that tiny gap between them and pressing his lips to Victor’s. He thinks about taking that thumb into his mouth, running his tongue along it, grazing it with his fangs—

“Hey, Victor!” Yurio shrieks next to them, way too loud considering how close he is. “Aren’t you teaching me first?”

Victor turns toward Yurio, as if he forgot that Yurio was there—Yuuri sure forgot. “Right!”

Warmth spreads across Yuuri’s cheeks, and he holds back a whimper. What— What _was_ that? He’s never thought about that sort of stuff before. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s thought about that kind of stuff vaguely, in distant concepts while his own hand wandered low, between his legs. He’s tried fumbling around in college a bit, even. But he’s never really _wanted_ it with someone like this. Not just some vague figment of his imagination, but someone here, and real, and messy, and flawed, and _perfect_.

And he… he doesn’t know how to handle it.

So for now, he picks it up and sets it aside to think about and deal with later.

Or never.

Victor turns back to Yuuri, spending a moment searching over his face before he gives a small smirk before walking toward the exit or the arena.“For now, you can spend today strength training. Luckily Minako kept us mostly in shape, but you’ll need to be stronger for what I have planned for you.” He steps close to Yuuri again, the boards not separating them this time. “ _Yuuri_. Think long and hard about what eros is to you.” For a single breath, Victor hovers close, and Yuuri _almost_ dares to hope…

But Victor turns away, walking past Yuuri to get snapped at by Yurio—but Yuuri doesn’t hear what gets said as he leans against the board and lets out a near-silent whimper.

Eros? How is he supposed to think of eros after _that_? Or at least his _own_ eros, because he’s pretty sure he’s about to drown in Victor’s eros. How can he compare when Victor’s _right there_?

What even _is_ eros to Yuuri? He’s never felt anything like this, not while sober anyway. Phichit has told him plenty of stories of his drunken exploits, and it seems like drunken Yuuri is quite the seducer—

Oh. Oh no. Yuuri saw the story in the vague shape and outline of Eros, in the movement of Victor’s arms and his hips. A seducer comes to town, and bewitches the residents left and right. The seducer decides to pursue the town’s beauty, a rose among the common wildflowers, but the beauty isn’t swayed. Then, as they play the game of love, the beauty finds it difficult to make the right choices and ends up falling for the seducer. But the seducer then casts the beauty aside when the conquest is made, and then moves onto a new town.

And the story isn’t familiar to Yuuri, at least not completely. He’s only heard about it. He’s only seen some of the movements and poses.

From Victor’s photos of the banquet.

Is that what he expects Yuuri to be? That same, half-naked man wrapped around the pole? Around _Chris_?

Oh wow, that explains some of the texts from Chris right after Sochi when Yuuri was confused and alone and unsure what to do. He almost ended their friendship over the _very_ suggestive texts, but now he feels a little bad that he just kinda ghosted Christophe.

It’s just… Sober Yuuri isn’t like that. It’s been _so long_ since Sochi, since Victor first came to Hasetsu and met the dull, ordinary, and unremarkable sober Yuuri. He has to have figured out that the Yuuri he based Eros off of doesn’t even exist in the real world. Yuuri felt _something_ during that performance, yeah, but he’s also never had a bond this deep. What if Victor just got really into the routine and Yuuri picked up on the emotions?

That has to be it. Because Yuuri’s never felt anything like that before, it couldn’t have been his own emotions. Maybe he should be worried about not having felt that before, but to be honest, he’s a little happy about that. Feeling that overwhelmed about someone? Needing something so physical, so _base_ , that Yuuri managed to forget about everyone else in the arena? He can’t imagine feeling that way about just anyone.

Honestly, something in him is kind of relieved this is only toward Victor. And he’s not even sure why? Maybe it’s because Victor’s respectful of him, and he doesn’t have to fear these dumb feelings becoming a reality and ruining their friendship. Maybe it’s because Yuuri knows he values his relationship with Victor too much to do anything dumb about it, even if he feels… he doesn’t even _know_ what this is. And he could make guesses, but that would just scare him, and—

No. Yuuri’s going to focus on finding his own eros. Not trying to justify some dumb feeling that he probably only has because of their fresh, sensitive bond.

If only he could stop thinking about it.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri blinks, his eyes focusing. “Yuuko?”

“Hey.” She smiles, even if there’s still a concerned furrow to her brow. “You okay? You’re looking awfully pale.”

“Yeah, I’m…” Yuuri looks out into the arena, where Yurio’s stomping at the ground. It’s almost odd that the ground doesn’t crack beneath Yurio, but then Yuuri remembers that Yurio hasn’t formed a contract with the arena yet. Victor laughs, the sound loud enough to reach Yuuri’s ears, and his heart does a little flip at it—but Yuuri shoves that feeling and the thoughts that come with it. “I’m fine. Everything’s okay. It’s fine.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Trouble in paradise?”

Yuuri blinks. “What?”

“You and Victor.” Yuuko waves her hand between Yuuri and Victor’s general direction. “Having couple issues?”

“No!” Yuuri waves his hands as his cheeks flare red. “No, no, no, we’re not like that.”

“Then why was he looking at you like he was about to kiss you before Yuri jumped in?” Yuuko puts her hands on her hips.

Yuuri’s snapped out of the moment for a second to realize that he almost didn’t recognize _Yuri_ instead of _Yurio_. Which is ridiculous. This entire situation is ridiculous. Victor is here to be Yuuri’s partner in mageia, and he’s lucky enough to have made a close, intimate friend along the way. Thinking about their relationship evolving to _whatever_ is going on in Yuuri’s head is just silly.

“He was just in character still.” Yuuri shrugs. “He’s trying to push my limits. Celestino let me stay safe for so long, I think I’m just a little freaked out about it.”

Yuuko hums, obviously not believing him—but really, it’s mostly the truth. The rest of it isn’t even worth talking about, just his usual, silly worries.

And as one of his oldest friends, Yuuko knows when to stop asking about certain topics. “Do you like being pushed? Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“I…” Yuuri brings his shoulders up, looking down. Yeah, he thinks it’s a bad idea, but Victor’s reasoning for it is sound. Yuuri hasn’t surprised or enthralled audiences for years. He can finally take his performances to the next level—and he should. But like this? “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Yuuko frowns. “Eros?”

“Yeah, I’m just… I’m _Yuuri_.” Yuuri sighs. “I spend a lot of my free time playing games on my phone. If you leave me alone with a tub of ice cream, I’ll eat the whole thing. I drool in my sleep sometimes. I don’t know what’s fashionable, or what looks good on me. I’m a mess. I’m not Eros.”

“But Victor thinks you could be.” Her eyes slide past Yuuri, probably focusing on Victor, but Yuuri doesn’t look with her—he doesn’t want to be distracted.

“Victor first met me when I was _drunk_.” Yuuri’s shoulders fall.

“Oof.” Yuuko winces.

“ _Exactly_.”

“Well… why can’t sober Yuuri pull off the same thing?” Yuuko smiles softly. “You’re the same person, Yuuri. It might be embarrassing at first, but I’m sure you could pull it off if you tried.”

“I just…” Yuuri looks down. “What does Eros even _mean_? I get it written down on paper, I get it when other people perform it, but I just… I don’t think I can pull it off because I don’t _understand_ it, you know?

“Oh. Really? You’ve never… Not even with Victor?” Yuuko frowns.

Yuuri’s thankful he’s already blushing, or he’d definitely be red by now. “I always thought he was pretty? I might’ve thought about it a few times, but it was just… It didn’t feel the same to meet him, to _know_ him. Things are different now, but we’re friends. He’s important to me, but it’s not, you know.” Yuuri waves vaguely at the arena. “ _Eros_. It’s just Victor. And that routine isn’t just Victor.”

Yuuko nods, like she understands, but Yuuri knows she doesn’t. _He_ doesn’t understand it. “Maybe just think on it a while before you throw it out the window? You never know, sometimes you’ve gotta think on it and it’ll click.”

“Yeah, I mean… he said he’s going to train Yurio first, anyway.” Yuuri wilts, letting out a long breath.

“Yurio?” Yuuko’s lips twitch up.

Yuuri can’t help but smile too. “Mari said that having two Yuris was confusing, so she nicknamed him Yurio since I was here first and get Yuuri rights, apparently.”

Yuuko laughs. “Oh, I’ll bet he was pissed.”

“You have no idea.” Yuuri smiles at her for a moment, then it fades a bit. “I’ve gotta go start strength training, Victor said I should.”

“What, is he your coach now, too?” Yuuko raises an eyebrow.

Yuuri laughs. “No, but he _is_ choreographing for us, and if he says I need to be stronger, he’s probably right.”

“Fine, fine. You can think about all this while you’re at it anyway, okay?” Yuuko perks up a bit. “I’m sure you can do it, Yuuri. And I’m here for you if you need help. Okay?”

Yuuri’s not sure how anyone can help him, but he still nods. “Okay.”

And with that, they go their separate ways. The arena isn’t open to the public yet today, but there’s always paperwork to get done, and Yuuko’s spent enough time hanging around with them. Yurio’s probably going to practice the basics for a bit before Victor has him contract with the arena, so they’ll take care of that later. As for Yuuri, he heads to the small gym built as a part of the arena.

Honestly, the gym gets more visitors than the arena met days, but it’s empty right now. It’s empty most of the time, and Yuuri doesn’t really want to think what that means.

If Yuuri was really some sort of mageia celebrity in Japan, he would think he’d actually bring some tourism here, but he hasn’t really seen any. Victor brought more visitors than Yuuri ever did.

Yuuri sighs as he settles into his old routine, the equipment old and worn and familiar in a way that Detroit’s gyms never were, but they all worked just the same. There’s something nice about the quiet of this gym, though. Yuuri doesn’t have to put on headphones if he doesn’t want to—which is good, because he hadn’t thought to bring any. It’s only his breathing and his heartbeat keeping him company, sweat building on him until it drips to the ground.

His body works just the same as anyone else’s. Hell, even _Yurio_ was ready and willing to perform to Eros and he’s fifteen—even if that’s the same exact reason that he shouldn’t have this program and Yuuri should. Yuuri would ask for Victor’s Storge, but he saw how personal that program is to him, how much Yuuri’s family and his time in Hasetsu means to him. Yuuri would never ask to take that from him.

But why can’t he just _get_ eros? Everyone else understands sex. The teenager does, Yuuko obviously does, she has triplets. But all Yuuri has are vague thoughts given to him through a bond. Maybe he can pretend. He’ll _have_ to pretend. With Victor’s eyes on him while he tries and fails to be sexy.

Yuuri falls out of his cool-down stretch, groaning against the mat he laid out.

He’s doomed.

He might as well just lie there and waste away until he’s just dust and they sweep him up and throw him in the trash where he _belongs_.

“What the fuck do you have to groan over?”

Yuuri doesn’t move, other than to shift his head and stare at Yurio. This kid really has no idea that lives are happening outside of his own, does he? Yeah, Victor chose Yuuri for his partner for this season, but when Yuuri inevitably flops Eros, Victor will _wish_ he’d gone with Yurio as his partner.

“What’s that look for.” Yurio glares at him. Or maybe that’s just his neutral expression.

“Nothing,” Yuuri mumbles, a little distorted from how his cheek is squished to the floor. “Absolutely nothing.”

Yurio sighs, and Yuuri doesn’t know how you can make breathing out so aggressive. “You have the opportunity to redeem your sorry ass, and you’re just lying around on the floor. You’re worse than Victor.”

Yuuri snorts. “I can’t redeem something I never had.”

“What?” Yurio growls.

“I’m a second-rate mage.” The words are out of Yuuri’s mouth before he can think about it, his tired mind not giving him a choice—but really, why wouldn’t he say it? “I’ve never done anything worth looking twice at. Just look at my track record. Hell, you said it yourself in Sochi, didn’t you?” Yuuri pushes himself up, his face blank as something heavy settles in his chest. “Victor chose me. I _will_ be his partner this season. But I know what I am, so I don’t need your reminders.”

Yurio takes a step back, but Yuuri’s not even sure it registered with him, as the next thing out of his mouth is a derisive snort. “This isn’t about Victor. If anything, you’re a better mage than he ever was.”

Yuuri’s brain screeches to a halt. “What?”

“You heard me, I’m not a compliment dispenser.” Yuri tosses his hair away from his face, making sure he can properly glare at Yuuri. “Yeah, you fucking crash and burn a lot. And it’s a shame because if you didn’t, you could’ve yanked the throne out from under that self-centered ass of his. But now you’re going to have a program that hasn’t been ordered from a second-rate choreographer by a third-rate coach, and you can shift more now than ever. I’m going to top the podium in solo events, no matter what bullshit Victor gives me. But you? You better push that bastard down to _bronze_ because I know you can do it.”

Is Yurio… No, Yurio hates Yuuri. He’s made that abundantly clear. Yuuri frowns up at him, for once the teen taller than him. “What happened to retiring? What happened to only one Yuri being in the senior circuit?”

“God, you remember that?” Yurio rolls his eyes. “Yeah, after that performance you needed to retire. But I saw that video of yours. You aren’t done here. And I expect you to give the old man a run for his money, because _someone_ needs to do it, and we’re the only two people in this godforsaken sport that can do it.”

Yuuri can only just bite back his grin. That was one hell of a dramatic speech. Then again, Yuuri might have been a bit dramatic, too.

This is just a program. He doesn’t need to totally get it to perform it. Yeah, he pulls on his own emotions a lot, but after Sochi… maybe it would be better if he _didn’t_.

He hadn’t been expecting help from Yurio, of all people. But Yuuri will take it.

“Okay.” Yuuri nods. “But don’t be surprised if I kick your ass along the way.”

Yurio doesn’t quite smile, it’s more like a smirk, but it’s a close thing. “As if you could. But if you don’t even try, _I’ll_ kick _your_ ass.”

Yuuri smiles, though, and reaches out a hand. “Deal.”

Yurio slaps his hand into Yuuri’s. “Good. Now the old man sent me here to get you because he wanted to go back and help cook or some other lame shit. Go take a shower, you smell like sewage.”

Yuuri can’t hold back his laugh at that, even as he gets to his feet and starts toward the locker room.

It’s funny, coming into the gym Yuuri was sure that Yurio was an unredeemable, hormonal teenager, and that he had no chance of conquering Eros. He hasn’t made up his mind on either of those things, not totally, but… Maybe he might be wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t plan on Yuuri’s demisexual awakening to hit this hard and this fast, but what can I say, Eros!Yuuri always has a plan of his own and who am I to argue?
> 
> And me? Projecting my own old ace troubles onto Katsuki Yuuri??? It’s more likely than you think. (Also being totally ace and into or not into sex is totally fine! I just love demisexual Yuuri, so that’s what we have here.)
> 
> Also, we're only 12 chapters to the end of part 1 ahhhh??!?!?!??!??!?!?
> 
> Just a heads-up I'm going under for a diagnostic procedure tomorrow, so I might not be online for a day or two because I don't want to risk me doing something dumb with internet access askdjanskdj So if Toungry is late for some reason, this is probably why. Hopefully they find something wrong! Anyhow, I hope you're all doing well, and thank you all so heckin' much for reading <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

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